


Not a Whimper

by minkmix



Category: Dark Angel (TV), Supernatural
Genre: AU, Continuation from Aftershocks, Crossover, Demon Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Some Humor, some dark stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-19 12:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17001399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minkmix/pseuds/minkmix
Summary: Directly following: All sixteen Aftershocks: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973790/chapters/39893430Sam POV. After Sam seeks some advice, he heads to the morgue for some hands-on training.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This verse is pretty large. I intend to update often/weekly/when I have time until it's all up.  
> And it goes in this order:
> 
> With a Bang - https://archiveofourown.org/works/15259845/chapters/35395707 - parts 1 -15 (completed)  
> Aftershocks - https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973790/chapters/39893430 - parts 1 - 16 (completed)  
> Not a Whimper HERE - parts 1 - 10 (completed)  
> Ripple Effects - https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109713/chapters/40237892 - parts 1 -12 (completed)  
> Minor Tremors - individual series of shorts that fit into this Bang!verse in a nonlinear way. As in they are random snapshots of life that could appear anywhere in the all of the series combined. - parts 1 - 11 (completed) - Minor Tremors (11 Chapters). - https://archiveofourown.org/works/18815989/chapters/44647327
> 
> (And finally into a last of the series, currently at 7 parts, which I have not picked up on a very long while and may or not post it here.)

Sam finally opened his eyes because Dean wouldn’t stop knocking on his door.

It took a few moments to fight off the nausea from the chemical hangover and untangle himself from the blankets. Blinking in confusion at the sun going down through the trees, Sam knew he’d done a lot better than a solid eight hours of rest. Those pills had taken away an entire day. He slowly formulated an excuse to leave the house as he dressed into clerical blacks and slipped the collar around his neck.

The short-term goal of the moment was to avoid his brother.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Sam hurried his pace down the dirt path that wound through the trees to the church. Dean was already on to him with the strange sleeping schedule and a night of beers no one had actually drank. One look in the eye and it would all be over. He just had to stay out of sight for a while and things would go back to how they were.

Sam had to do it right. Play it cool.

The weight of the double doors echoed loudly through the pews when he slid the bolts down.

It was the middle of the week and with no service scheduled but he checked the place top to bottom for any possible visitors anyway. Walking down the aisles, he ignored the clutter of hymnbooks left scattered on the benches and floor. Once he was satisfied that he was alone, he headed for the pulpit. But instead of moving up to the platform he stopped at the foot of the steps and took a deep breath.

Getting down into his knees, he crossed himself before clasping his hands. Lowering his head, he pressed his fingers together and rubbed them against the center of his forehead.

“Please,” he said. “Please.”

It was safe to cry here.

The cross that hung behind the altar and the stained glass began to blur into a bright mess as his eyes started to burn. Bracing himself against the steps, he blinked down at the tears on the backs of his hands and the dark spots they made on the wood.

“Please… I’m in trouble.”

He suddenly hated how the walls carried his whisper like a shout.

“I’m in so much trouble and I don’t know what to do.”

Sam tried to pray but the words wouldn’t come.

After some time passed he realized the coming twilight should have made the room darker than it was. He lowered his head further when the light instead began to grow by almost imperceptible degrees.

The arrival of the light meant something else was on its way too.

Its appearance was as random and unpredictable as glimpsing the dim flare of a falling star, but it happened if Sam waited and watched closely. Minutes. Hours. Days. Sometimes the wait brought nothing at all. But as Sam remained down in a crouch, the light began to grow brighter and brighter while the sun continued to set. The glow wasn’t coming from the cross or the sculpture of the tortured man that loomed above him either. This summoning ritual had nothing to do with relics of mythology. Sam had picked the church for no other reason than its guarantee of privacy.

The touch of the growing radiance began to sooth his mind.

If he strained with everything he possessed he could feel the gentle waver of the presence in the air stretched fine and frail as a cobweb. There were also times when he concentrated hard enough that he could sense the slightest pressure of a hand resting on his shoulder. Sam got hit with a wave of dizziness as the manifestation solidified more powerfully than it ever had before.

“Hello?” he asked. “A-Are you here?”

And to his astonishment the spirit responded.

_I’m here._

His heart pounding, he wanted to look up but he kept his gaze locked on the floor. Not daring to speak or breathe, he fought from doing anything that might disrupt the fragile link. A gentle breeze blew against Sam’s damp face, a warm caress like fingers through his hair.

_I’m always here._

Sam squeezed his eyes closed. “I did something,” he said softly. “I did it for Alec.”

_No one will understand. No one will ever understand what you’ve done._

“He was almost murdered,” Sam worked his clasped hands into fists. “I was down the hall and he could have died while I was lying in bed. It’s too much. I can’t do it. I—“

_There are people who want to hurt him._

Sam did look up then. Tossing up an arm to shield his eyes, he searched the roil of light searing over the altar. “People? You mean… living people?”

_Protect your son._

“From who?” Sam went cold. “From Manticore?”

_The agents of Hell have got lots of names._

“How many of them?” Sam demanded.

_Only one of them will find you. The smartest. The fastest. The most dangerous._

“How close are they? What do I do?”

_Protect him, Sammy._

“I will! You know I will but- but I need to know more, I need to know—“

The warm light stuttered and faded leaving the church dark and cold. Staggering to his feet, Sam wiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. His conversation with the manifestation was over.

“Dad,” Sam breathed. “Dad… please… come back.”

Stepping away from the stairs, he stumbled backwards into a pew. He numbly took a seat and wiped a shaking hand under his nose. There wasn’t much blood. He sometimes got it got from his eyes and ears too when he really pushed it too far. Staring up at the shadowy pulpit a strange calm descended over him where there had been none before.

The enemy could bring anything they wanted to his doorstep.

He would take care of it.

 

 

~~

 

 

What Sam wanted was a controlled environment.

A secluded place where no one could interfere or interrupt.

He hesitated over the new security panel by the door and was relieved when Alec knocked his hand aside to disable it himself. They took the stairs down three flights with the stink of the basement getting worse with every step. A morgue was always a lot of interesting smells all jammed together. Sam usually picked up the reek of industrial chemical preservatives first. Second came that scent of meat just starting to turn. Under all that was stale coffee and the hot burning scent of a used up Xerox machine. Alec had probably detected very tantalizing nuance from the parking lot, but the kid hadn’t said a word.

“I can’t help but notice that Dean wasn't invited,” Alec pushed the door open and flipped on the lights. “So is this a big secret or what?”

“No,” Sam said quickly. “He just wouldn’t understand what we’re doing.”

“I don’t understand what we’re doing either,” Alec mumbled. “So… does that mean it’s a secret or not?”

“No. Yes. No. Look, you can tell him anything you want, just remember that he once mentioned it’d be a good idea to put you in the basement to keep you out of harm’s way.”

“The super creepy locked up mystery basement?”

Sam figured it was mostly the truth. It was just an outdated truth. Since they'd gotten to Blue Earth his brother hadn't been big on the 'locking and hiding away' parts of the plan anymore.

Alec wandered past him and tapped on a dead computer keyboard.

“Just think of this as a classroom,” Sam went through the collection of keys until he found the right one for the desk. “This is educational.”

“Doesn’t feel educational,” Alec said. “It feels like breaking and entering.”

Sam was glad to see the registration clipboard in the file cabinet was completely full. That meant plenty of violent deaths on top of the usual naturals. He wasn’t sure where to start first so he decided to begin at the beginning.

“Jacobs, Abigail. Age 57,” Sam read. “Death from severe blunt trauma to the head. Higgins, Kenneth. Age 34. Death by stab wounds to upper right quadrant. Capriati, Michael. Age 19. Death by asphyxiation.”

Alec shifted in place.

“You okay, Alec?”

“I’m not sure if I’m supposed to give a round of applause for each one or wait till the end.”

“This is serious.”

“I get that,” Alec said. “But now what?”

“Now we wake them up.’

Alec backed up a few steps. “W-Why would we go do something stupid like that?”

“Because you have to learn how to handle it,” Sam said. “You have to learn what it feels like and how to keep it under control.”

“Can’t I learn without asking them out to play?”

Sam put his hand on the body bag of Abigail Jacobs. Age 57. Death by… Sam could see the murder weapon now. It had been a steel hammer. Brand new. Her voice came to him as vividly as the image of the bloodstained tool.

_Please don’t hurt me._  
Please don’t hurt me.  
Please don’t hurt me.  
Please don’t— 

“Something is still here,” Sam said softly. “She’s still afraid of her husband.”

“Her husband?” Alec asked. “Maybe she’s afraid of you.”

Sam felt a dull pain from each shadow strike of the hammer’s forked end to his skull. Once. Twice. Three times before an elderly Mr. Jacobs cast it aside.

“I can hear her crying,” Alec’s hands hovered over his ears. “I don’t like this, Sam. I think we should leave her alone.”

“Listen to her,” Sam urged. “Listen closely.”

The spirit slowly assembled over the black plastic sack that contained its remains and begin to spread like a mist eagerly towards Alec. Sam could see now that the dead were drawn to his son just like they were drawn to him. Alec’s mind was like a flare of light in a sea of dark with a voice that could hear and respond to their muted pleas. But before the spirit hungrily settled over Alec like a shroud, Sam stopped it before it could get comfortable.

“Can you see it, Alec?”

“Yeah,” he reached up and grazed the black static with his fingers. “She’s saying the same thing over and over.”

“You can do more than listen if you let them have prolonged contact,” Sam rolled another body out from the freezer. “But these things are capable of possessing your body and mind. They can make you do and say things you don’t want to do.”

“B-But what’s wrong with her? “Alec swallowed. “Can we help her?”

“No.”

Sam paused when he felt Alec’s mind start to wrap closed again.

“These people are so lost … and if you try to pull them out you’ll start to get lost too.” Sam didn’t mean to look at his son’s injured arm, but Alec caught him looking anyway. “The ones that aren’t dangerous are the ones that are already gone. Like Kenneth Higgins here. He’s not home.”

“So what’s keeping this lady around?”

“Sheer will. Sadness. Anger. There are lots of reasons why they won’t go. You can try to point them in the right direction but-but it doesn’t work very often.”

“Great.”

“I want you to let her in.”

“Right now?”

Sam released his hold on the phantom, watching it twitch and twist in agitation from its brief confinement. Slightly more cautious this time, it slithered slowly through the air towards Alec. When it met no resistance, it sought to rush and flood his muscles to flex its own phantom limbs.

Alec jerked back when it did just that.

“Stay on it, Alec,” Sam was ready to rip the spirit away at any moment. “You control it. It doesn’t control you.”

“It itches,” Alec clutched his head. “I can _taste_ her.”

“Push her out now.”

The ghost suddenly evaporated back into the nothing where it had come from. Alec looked shaken and nauseated, but otherwise fine.

Sam started breathing again. “Ready for another one?”

“Not really.”

“It’s not so hard,” Sam said. “You just have to be prepared. You have to maintain an awareness of their presence at all times.”

“This … training is all for my protection?”

“It will save your life.”

“Sounds like they’re the ones that need protecting from us,” Alec half smiled. “If I can make a ghost do what I want, then who needs a gun?”

Sam hadn’t thought about beginning the evening with the ethical portion of the work they were forced to deal with. Being in regular commune with the dead gave a man a heavy set of responsibilities that stretched far beyond any conventional contractual notion of privacy and trust.

“We’ll talk about that stuff later,” Sam said. “We only got this place for the night.”

He picked up the folder of the 19 year old named Michael Capriati. A drug screen tested positive for methamphetamines and alcohol. And even though it was not the cause of death, the young man had also sustained three bullet wounds to the arms and chest.

Alec looked worriedly at the massive body lying under the plastic tarp.

“Get ready,” Sam said. “This one is going to be pissed off.”

Alec went still when the ghost struck and Sam had a half-second to wonder if maybe he had pushed the kid too far too fast. But then Alec’s smirk was back in place with the addition of a lilt of confidence Sam hadn’t seen there before.

“This guy has some money stashed out in a bean field,” Alec said. “Twenty grand in cash and he croaked before he could spend it.”

Sam watched carefully as the other spirits churning around them closed in tighter as they sensed Alec’s interest.

“He-He hadn’t been able to see his mom before he died,” Alec’s voice changed. “Or his dog. The bastards could have at least let him see his damn dog.”

“Alec, I want you to back out from him a little,” Sam said. “He’s taking over.”

“If I ever find the bastards that shot my dog,” Alec’s voice dulled. “I’ll skin them alive and then I’ll … _ah!_ ”

Sam held on to Alec as the chills racked through his body.

“He tried to stay in my head,” Alec sounded offended. “I tried to push him out but he didn’t want to go.”

“I pushed him out for you,” Sam held on until he knew Alec could stand on his own. “But you’ll get better. You’ll see.”

“Gimme a girl this time,” Alec demanded. “I think I can do a girl.”

Alec didn’t argue when Sam sat him down into a metal folding chair. Sorting through the files, Sam stopped on the next one tagged as female. A suicide. Sam swallowed hard and left that one in the pile. Searching further he stopped when he found one marked in a bright red folder. A messy double homicide was always good for a few thrills.

“This one shot her boyfriend along with the woman she found him cheating with. Police eventually took her out when she holed up in a Taco Bell with a hostage,” Sam flipped a page. “She shot her boyfriend twelve times. Fives times right in the—“

“Okay,” Alec paled. “Bring her on. I can do it.”

As Sam stood back to let Alec try, he checked his watch. At this rate they could get through the majority of the cadavers and maybe go back through the problematic ones twice for extra practice. Tomorrow night Sam planned on taking Alec on a tour of the local cemeteries that didn’t stay as quiet as they should. There were plenty of jobs that fell below the scope of Winchester’s usual work.

After all, they couldn’t salt and burn everything that went bump in the night.

“I think I got her,” Alec said with a frown. “She’s not that angry. She’s just really sad.”

Sam nodded.

“It’s weird,” Alec said. “All she wants to know is if I think she’s pretty.”

They both glanced over at the gray corpse of what had been a bottle blond with green eyes and freckles across her nose. The policeman who had put her down had been an excellent shot. Two entrance wounds almost overlapped each other right over the heart.

“What do I say?” Alec asked.

Sam dragged out another chair and settled down into it. “Say what you think is right. And if she listens, she might decide to rest.”

“You mean leave?”

“Yeah.”

“You said its hard to talk them into going,” the spooked look that had been in Alec’s eyes since the night of the wake was finally easing into something else. ”But you didn’t say it was impossible.”

“No,” Sam agreed. “I didn’t.”

“I’m gonna go for it then,” Alec shut his eyes and got ready. “It’s worth a shot right?”

While still monitoring Alec, Sam allowed a small portion of his mind to wander. But he didn’t want to linger on the stained glass of the church windows. He didn’t want to think about the warning his father had given him.

Only one of them will find you. The smartest. The fastest. The most dangerous.

That could mean a lot of things in a world where every fresh corpse that hit the ground was an open door that could lead right to his son. With the right power involved, the body didn’t even need to be recently vacated either.

He fought back his panic and concentrated on the task at hand.

“Any luck, Alec?”

Sam could feel the sickening grope of the dead woman blindly attempting to communicate. But this spirit wasn’t listening to a word anyone had to say. And if the angels and devils didn’t have her attention, Alec didn’t stand much of a chance either.

“Give me another five minutes,” Alec crossed his arms and squeezed his eyes shut harder. “I think this is the kind of chick that needs a little finesse.”

Sam looked through the doors at the morgue’s coffee machine.

This was going to be a long night.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Alec POV. Everything goes to (hell) changes._

The night hadn’t ended well.

For Alec anyway.

Sam had made it seem perfectly normal to zip up the body bags and shut the freezers, but Alec felt strange when they locked the doors behind them. He didn’t quite see the point in trying to sell a dead guy a slice of heaven and then giving up when it was time to clock out. However, he had to admit that trying to persuade a ghost to do anything was a lot like trying to reason with a brick wall.

A very violent brick wall that was trying to climb into your skin and turn you inside out.

"So," Alec asked. "You're a whiskey man, huh?"

"Not really," Sam said. "But it does the job."

When it was over Alec debated on how to ask if they could hit a bar on the highway before going home. But to his unmitigated shock his father beat him to the punch and suggested it first.

“You did good tonight, Alec.”

"Thanks."

Gulping down a mouth full of warm scotch, he resisted the conditioned sense of relief that came when anyone told him he had done something right. But the desperate faces of the dead wouldn’t stop flashing behind his eyes. Tapping the glass on the sticky table, Alec’s smile faded with the burn of whiskey down the back of his throat.

“I mean it,” Sam told him. “You did a lot back there.”

“Right,” Alec tried smiling again. “With all the redemption and absolution.”

Sam refilled their glasses. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know,” Alec shrugged. “But I guess now I know first hand what it feels like to be suffocated with a plastic shopping bag. Oh, and I know exactly where to go to dig up a coffee can stuffed with cash if you ever wanna swing by Harpersville.”

“I think some of those people listened to you. That matters. Maybe not tonight or even a year from now, but it means something.”

Alec studied Sam for a moment before picking his glass up again. His father’s weary approval made him reconsider what the entire ghost whispering deal might be about. Sam had had a long time to come to terms that there was no fast fix for purgatory. Self made or other, the solution sure didn’t come out of saying the right thing at the right time.

“I’m going to go settle the bill,” Sam pushed in his chair with a sigh. “Dean hits this place every other week and puts it on the congregational tab.”

“He’s sitting right over there,” Alec pointed. “Third guy over from the red head.”

Sam actually turned around and looked.

“Gotcha.” Alec winked.

“I-I’ll meet you out back.”

Watching his father head for the busy bartender, Alec drank what was left in the bottle. It took a lot of high-grade booze to alter his chemistry and this stuff was hitting him hard in a nice way. Alec pulled on his jacket and bumped his way through the early morning crowd that was coming in from the night shift.

A bunch of cops. Some EMTs. A few nurses still dressed in scrubs.

The parking lot was full even though the sun was about to come up. Looking for the Chevy, Alec found it behind an off duty ambulance and its crew drinking some beers. He walked through a haze of cigarette smoke and conversation. Once he got to the locked car door, Alec realized he was drunk. He suddenly wanted to play one of those lame tapes his uncle always had on but his father hadn’t given him the keys.

The voices of the ambulance crew distracted him.

“Hey, did you hear about that college kid they had to bag last week?”

“No, what happened?”

Alec yanked the door handle a few times in frustration.

“Real classic. Slashed both her wrists and bled out in the bathtub. To candlelight even.”

“Thank Jesus we weren’t on that night.”

“Yeah, the paperwork musta taken forever.”

Alec’s thoughts flickered to the wake at the church the week before. The dead woman had been painted up like a doll and dressed in a yellow silk dress. Feeling the line of stitches that ran up the inside of his arm, Alec’s stomach began to churn.

“So?” the guy laughed. “Did she make it?”

“I bet she’s making some rehab rich as we speak.”

Alec broke out in a cold sweat and took an unsteady walk to the bushes to be sick. Footsteps in the gravel hurried towards him. He heard Sam asking him if he was okay and he heard himself try to reply. He just had too much to drink. Everything would be fine once they got in the car and left. Slumping in the passenger side, Alec tensed when the ambulance drivers broke out into more laughter.

He shut his eyes.

All he needed was some sleep.

 

 

 

 

It turned out the police station had it tucked away on their computer server. Alec didn’t even have to break in. He just had to make all the right phone calls and do a hack job from the station parking lot.

The old woman’s suicide had been kept from the newspapers but the paramedics that had been on the scene had documented everything as required. Elderly female found alone in home. A candle burning on the wick. The bible open on the floor. Resuscitation unsuccessful due to major blood loss and subsequent cardiac arrest.

Alec had spent a long time looking at the window that had been replaced in the bathroom. There were still pieces of broken glass sitting in the bathtub. He had made a print out of the coroners report along with the documents that the police had kept. Putting them together neatly in order, he went downstairs and left them on Sam’s bed.

Then he went out to the backyard and waited.

Staring at the waving corn, Alec pictured the glimmer of the highway that was far out of sight. The sun was almost down before he heard Sam’s truck pull up in front of the house. He listened to his father’s footsteps and followed his movements within the house. It was a half hour later when the back door opened behind him.

The porch stairs creaked as Sam slowly stepped down each one.

The wake. His arm. The training in the morgue. A part of him was still hoping that he’d made some horrible mistake. It could still be some weird coincidence that Alec’s stupid head had complied into something worse.

“A-Alec—“

One word. One stuttered word and Alec knew all of it was true.

“You ruined everything,” Alec said. “You ruined it.”

“I can explain,” Sam was coming towards him. “Please let me explain—”

“No.”

“We have to talk about this.“

“No.”

“You have to let me try—”

“NO!”

Alec didn’t mean to do it. But he felt something in his head snap. It just broke and collapsed, his anger shifting to a rage that imploded in his head like a bomb. The ground shook under his feet as it spread out around him, rippling through the earth before it struck the house, every window cracking and shattering glass into the air. Sam stumbled away from Alec in astonishment.

“ _They_ did that to us,” Alec said. “They strapped us down and did things to make us forget. But it never really worked. Not like how you did it.”

The splinter of glass rained down so fine it glittered in the setting sun like magic.

“Why did you do that to me?” Alec didn’t like how his voice sounded. “Why?”

This was the part when his father was supposed to say something. He was going to say something that would make everything okay again. Because Alec was wrong. He had to be the one that was wrong. But Sam didn’t say a word.

So Alec ran.

He blurred so hard and so fast that the cornstalks slashed across his face like knives. Pushing his body as far as it could go, Alec heard himself cry out when his muscles began to cramp and seize. He fought against his system’s own self defense, his brain shutting down the feed of endorphins and adrenaline, but he wouldn’t let his speed lag. And as far and fast as he could run he was still straining to listen. All he wanted was for one shout or whisper in his mind, but there was nothing there.

There was nothing behind him at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sam POV. Everything continues to (go to hell) change._

Sam tried to hold on but he only made it a couple steps before he collapsed.

He looked around dazedly at the broken glass all over the ground. It should have killed him. The energy that had come off of Alec should have annihilated him and left nothing behind but a waft of smoke. With a groan he got to his knees and looked around at the empty backyard.

“Alec?” He got unsteadily to his feet. “Alec!!”

Sam swayed and clutched at his throbbing head, trying to hear anything other than the wind coming off the fields. There was nothing in sight but miles of corn under the darkening fall of twilight. Fumbling for his phone he found Alec’s number and hoped like hell that against all odds someone would pick up.

The ring answered him from a few yards away.

Sam pushed the corn aside until he found the discarded cell. Dropped in the dirt and left behind on purpose. With a desperate heave of his senses, Sam reached out as far as he could go, stretching in every mile and in every direction. He shuddered as he impacted mind after mind after mind, but none of them belonged to his son. But just when his reach had stretched too thin and weakened he found something. Alec’s thoughts were indistinct and frantic, but they were there. Wrapping his mind carefully like fist over what he’d found, Sam attempted to hold on to it, to keep it until he would be able to locate—

His eyes flew open with a gasp of pain.

Sam swung in the direction of where the sun had fallen below the horizon. Something had quickly and brutally severed his connection. The scatter of his thoughts were suddenly crashing back on top of him, all the power he’d created returned three times harder than how he'd sent it. Sam felt himself hit the ground, his vision fizzling to white with the overload. But along with the tumult of static he could hear something else roaring back along with the sound of his own pleas for Alec to answer. It was a voice he didn’t recognize.

And it was laughing.

 

 

 

 

Sam wasn’t sure what the gentle pressure on his chest was until his eyes finally focused.

He groggily felt the crumble of dry dirt under his hands and realized he was still lying in the cornrows. Night had come, but the house lights were still working and the dim porch lamp was reaching through the garden. The kitten on his chest stood up and stretched the small arc of its back when it saw he had opened his eyes. It let out a wide yawn and then it was gone.

Sam was light-headed with relief that it had survived. There had been the possibility that every living thing within a square mile without a defense might have been struck down by Alec’s assault. But his son hadn’t been the one that had knocked him down for good. It was hard to see, let alone think but he struggled to remember what had happened.

He’d heard something out there hidden in the fields.

There was someone else out there.

“Sam!”

Trying to turn his head towards his brother’s voice, Sam’s heart started to pound when he realized he couldn’t move.

“Sammy! Where are you!”

When he attempted to speak he found he couldn’t do that either. He thought Dean might miss him completely just separated a few feet away in the thick corn, but then Sam was startled by a shrill mewing noise by his ear. That kitten was still hanging around. The corn near by was suddenly being pushed and shoved aside with the stark beam of a flashlight. Sam wanted to hold out his hand when he saw his brother but he couldn’t do anything but breathe.

“Say something,” Dean’s flashlight blinded him when it hit. “Where are you hurt?”

“Alec.”

“Don’t worry about him right now,” Dean told him.

“Dean, no, he’s—“

“I know.”

Sam felt his brother’s hands checking him for injury and finding none.

“We- have- have to find him.”

“Just shut up and help me get you to the house,” Dean hooked an arm under his. “What’s left of it.”

Sam staggered to his feet and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other until Dean told him to stop. The inside of the house wasn’t as bad as he expected. Everything that had been on the walls, tables and elsewhere was now shattered on the floor but at least the walls were still standing. His brother got most of the glass off the sofa before setting Sam down.

“You look like hell but yer not bleeding,” Dean glanced uneasily around at the wreckage. “How’s your head?”

Sam was still having trouble getting words out but the numb daze was wearing off and was swiftly being replaced with pain. “I-I’m fine.”

“Man, oh man. Alec told me that he’d kicked your ass but I didn’t think that he meant a whooping on this kinda scale.“

“What?”

Dean was suddenly avoiding Sam's eyes. “I just got done talking to 'im,” he picked up the front door that had fallen off its hinges. “I would have headed over here sooner if I’d known you were … well, how are you anyway?”

“I said I’m fine,” Sam struggled to focus. His brother was talking too fast and he didn’t understand what was going on. “H-How long was I out there?”

“Good question,” Dean mumbled. “And I got a few of my own when you’re all done asking yours.”

Sam found the cracked clock on the floor and read the time. With the sun just down he knew he couldn’t have been out for more than an hour.

“Y-You talked to Alec?”

“Yeah, he called me.”

“What?” Searching Dean’s eyes, Sam couldn’t find anything there besides weary concern. “He called you?”

“Do I have a stutter?”

“No… I just… okay, he called you. When did he call you?”

“About an hour ago,” Dean said reluctantly. “He’s up at the old Smith house.”

“That place is a wreck,” Sam rubbed at his head. “How did he even know it was out there?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I gotta go see him.”

“No way,” Dean shook his head. “He needs time to cool off and so do you.”

“I need to see him,“ Sam stood. “Right now.”

“You gotta give the kid some breathing room.”

“Get out of my way, Dean.”

“I’m not askin’ ya,” Dean stepped forward. “I’m tellin’ ya.”

Sam allowed himself to be pushed back down onto the sofa.

“Sleep on it, okay? Tomorrow morning I’ll drive out there with you. We can sit down and have a freakin’ civilized conversation. It’ll even be out loud.”

“But Dean, I don’t—“

“You don’t what?”

“I…I can’t…” Sam’s eyes blurred with the fear he didn’t want to show anymore than he already was. “I can’t feel him.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I … it means it feels like no one is out there. Not Alec. Not anyone. It feels completely empty.”

“You got banged up pretty good, I’m surprised you can feel your own ass.”

“I can always feel him, Dean.”

“Maybe Alec doesn’t wanna be found right now.”

Sam stared down hard at the floor.

“Can you feel me?” Dean asked.

“Well, yeah but—“

“How ‘bout this guy?” Dean picked up a plastic bowl filled with glass and dog chow and dumped it out the window. The cat sniffed it hopefully when it was dropped back onto the floor. “Can you feel him?”

Sam hesitantly touched the animal’s fluttering bewilderment that overlapped with contentment at the droning sound of human voices.

“Kinda.”

“Then maybe your head is on the fritz because I was just out there and Alec is fine.”

“Wait,” Sam blinked up at his brother in confusion. “You saw him? He’s okay?”

“Yes, Sam!” Dean had to yank a few times before the overturned freezer would open. “I saw him and I talked to him! Look, I get that there's a lot of bullshit between you guys, but it’s time to put _your_ shit aside and think about your kid. That’s all we have to concentrate on right now, you got it? And if you’re lucky he won’t pack up for Seattle and never speak to you again.”

Sam caught the ice pack with both hands so he wouldn’t drop it. “Are you sure he’s okay?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Because I thought… I thought I heard something weird out there.”

“Like what?” Dean demanded. “Like the house coming down on your head?”

“No,” Sam muttered. “Something else.”

“Sometimes when I get punched in the face I hear little tweety birds—“

“I’m serious, Dean!”

“So am I!” Dean shouted back. “You’re taking the night off! You hear me?”

Sam knew when it was no use fighting anymore. With a groan, he kneaded his knuckles into his aching forehead. Maybe his brother was right. He hadn’t exactly been in a coherent state of mind when it happened. “Okay. Fine. We drive out there first thing in the morning.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “First thing.”

Sam flinched when his brother kicked the teetering front door over. “Dean,” he wanted to shut his eyes but he didn’t. “You said… you said you had questions.”

His brother sighed.

“Yeah, I got a few,” Dean rubbed at his eyes. “But right now all I want is some sleep. If your bed is still in one piece I suggest you do the same.”

Sam suddenly wanted to blurt out what he’d heard in the church. He wanted to tell Dean about the warning their father had given him. Sam wanted to tell every secret he had so he wouldn’t have to say one word about that broken window.

“Good night, Sam.”

“Night, Dean.”

Maybe his brother knew it all already and was thinking about packing the car and leaving with Alec after they got through with him in the morning. Pressing the ice pack against his closed eyes, Sam leaned back and wondered how the hell he was going to manage getting any sleep. But his body had other plans. His worn out brain was already winding down to the rest he badly required. It wasn’t until he was almost gone that something worrisome tugged him back from the edge of slumber.

Something important.

Sam’s thoughts wandered to the cell phone left behind to ring in the dirt. His brother had said he’d talked to Alec just after he’d disappeared into the corn, but… but if Dean saw Alec with his own eyes than everything must be okay for now. He cleared his mind of every thought and every thing.

Dean was right.

It could wait until morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sam POV. Everything continues to really (go to hell) change._

Sam tapped the cell phone on his knee as he counted the Pre-Pulse billboards go by.

The signs that were still standing were doing their best to sell a highway traveler a room, home fries or an insurance plan. Dean slowed down to avoid one that had half collapsed into the lanes, the enormous advertisement faded white from the weather. But as they drove around the tilt of plywood and plaster, Sam could make out a woman’s face smiling benevolently out over the abandoned highway.

“You sure he called from all the way out here?” Sam had asked too many times already, but he couldn’t help it. “I haven’t been able to pick up a signal for the last thirty-minutes.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I’m sure.”

The place they were headed was twenty miles north and between exits off a state route that had been closed to traffic for a decade. It was easy to forget how long the drive was even with his brother pushing the car about as fast as it could go without wrecking.

“And he called on… on a phone?” Sam asked.

“Opposed to what?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I showed you the log, Sam. What else do you want?”

Sam shut his mouth before Dean could dig out his phone to show the list of incoming calls again. There was no doubt someone had called his brother when Dean claimed but the number wasn’t one either one of them recognized. Which, as Dean was quick to emphasize, didn’t mean a whole lot in a world were a guy could hack into an ATM in Detroit to do some long distance dialing to Hong Kong if need be.

“The whole thing is weird,” Sam tossed the cell phone into the backseat. “I think maybe you were wrong about when you thought you saw him. It must have been later. Or I was knocked out longer than we both thought. I just think--”

“Look, how many more ways do you wanna hear it?” Dean said. “He called me freaking out and asked if I'd go see him. So I did. We talked and then I left. The end.”

Dean had impatiently recited the same vague pieces of information many times since they’d hit the road, but none of it made Sam feel any better. Because it seemed that during the conversation Dean had shared with his nephew, Alec apparently had only provided the basics and nothing more. Sam didn’t understand why Alec hadn’t explained everything when he’d had the chance. Even more troubling was why his son would even grant him that kind of reprieve just minutes after almost vaporizing him with an unchecked rage that could have removed Blue Earth from the map.

Holding his hands to his head, Sam could still feel the wave of anger that had roiled through the ground and struck the house like a bomb.

“You sure that you’re feelin’ okay?” Dean was rubbing the knuckle of his thumb between his eyes. “Being all-powerful can take a lot out of a guy.”

“I’m fine,” Sam said. “As much as I’d like to take credit, Alec pulled that one off all by himself.”

The reality of their wrecked home in broad daylight had been slightly sobering to them both, but Dean hadn’t given Sam one of _those_ kinds of looks in a real long time.

Sam watched his brother rubbing at his head again. “What’s wrong?”

“That might be the stupidest fucking question you’ve ever asked me.”

“I mean with your head.”

“Just tired,” Dean mumbled. “Didn’t get much sleep.”

“Looked like you got plenty to me.”

“Yeah,” Dean yawned. “You too.”

Sam’s guilt for sleeping in came flooding back to add nicely to his anxiety. He had no idea how he could have slept so long on that glass covered sofa. When he’d finally roused to the sun already high on the horizon he’d felt like he’d just gotten in a solid eight hours. Dean had been sleeping just as soundly in the other room, right on top of the unmade bed and looking like he would have stayed that way if Sam hadn‘t woken him up.

“I had some weird dreams, man,” Dean said. “Those real kind.”

“Dreams?” Sam didn’t remember having a single one. “What kinda dreams?”

“Shit, there it is…”

With a sharp turn on the wheel, Dean made a high speed turn down a road set back in the trees. The daylight turned murky green under the canopy of sparse forest, the asphalt abruptly giving way to a dirt road. Dean slowed the car as the path narrowed until they could see nothing but tree branches sliding off the windshield. They had to roll to a stop in front of a rotting pine that had long ago fallen to block the way.

But right there around the next turn was the house. Half hidden behind the leaves, it sat in a condemned heap, the roof caved in and all its window panes empty of glass.

“Remember what I said,” Dean warned. “Take it easy.”

Sam was out of the car before his brother could even put it in park.

He was up the weed choked steps before he decided to stop at the black gape of the missing door. Up until this moment he hadn’t been fully aware of the dim state his senses had been reduced to. Life had a hum and glow he had a constant awareness of and that noise never went completely silent. But ever since he had woken up in that cornfield the night before all the living things that existed in his peripherals were now muted.

And this ruin of stone and wood felt as empty as it looked.

“Cozy ain’t it?” Dean stepped past him. “Come on.”

Sam followed him into the cool dark, the scent of decay coming all the more powerfully with his other sense gone.

“Alec!” Dean called out. “I know you heard us coming a mile away. Come on out.”

The rot of the floorboards and the sag of timber looked the same time as the one and only other time Sam had been there. The place’s seclusion didn’t even warrant the attention of any local teens that liked to leave behind broken bottles and spray paint. In fact, everything about the place looked exactly the same except for some furniture that didn’t belong there.

“Hello!” Dean ventured up the teeter of stairs that went to a second floor. “Anybody home?”

Sam frowned at the rusted folding chair that sat beside a moldy mattress and an old analog radio. It seemed like a lot of stuff for just an overnight stay. But the oddest thing of all was sitting on the floor and shoved back in the shadows of the corner. It was a telephone. One of those old rotary dial phones. And the corroded jack on the wall it was plugged into had to be at least over fifty years old.

Sam lifted the mattress with his boot and found nothing underneath it.

The last time they were here was for a job down in the cellar. Dean leaned down through the low entrance but he didn‘t attempt to enter. That was because the staircase that allowed a quick look down into the hole under the house was missing. Sam could still remember how far the drop down into the dark had been when he was forced to jump it.

“Huh,“ Dean’s voice didn’t echo down there. “Maybe he left.”

Sam heard the floorboards creak directly behind him and knew the search was over.

It was a breathless relief to see Alec standing by the window.

“Hey,” Dean said. “Didn’t you hear us?”

Instead of answering, Alec held up a hand in a half-hearted gesture of greeting. Sam’s mind automatically reached out between them to make any kind of contact he could, but the effort sent him a step backwards. There was a wall around Alec’s thoughts, a wall so thick and high that Sam couldn’t sense where it started or stopped.

“Don’t.” Alec said. “Don’t do that.”

Sam carefully took in his son’s details to convince himself that none of this was like a dream image that could blink out at any second. Without being able to hear the flicker of his son’s thoughts, Alec seemed as unsubstantial and unreal as the crumbling house they stood in. Sam pushed his dulled touch towards his brother and reassured himself with the solid presence of Dean’s annoyance and agitation.

“I left you alone just like you asked,” Dean said. “But now time’s up.”

“I know,” Alec’s voice was strained. “And I did what you asked too. I stayed up all night thinking about it.”

“That’s good,” Dean nodded. “That’s real good.”

Sam hadn’t heard Dean sound that hopeful in a long time. Hopeful and scared. For the first time in a while, he had to wonder how much all of this was costing his brother. The list of bullshit was long and it started with a power Dean didn't understand, and it ended with something a lot worse. Because if Sam got what was coming to him, Dean would lose Alec too and it wouldn’t even be his brother’s fault.

“I-I’ve been thinking all night,” Alec repeated. “And I’ve thought about what I did.“

Sam felt a sliver of cold harden like a spike in his belly as he realized he could make this all go away again if he wanted to. For all of them. He could do it right this time, and no one would ever be any wiser to any of this entire unbearable mess--

His brother interrupted by pulling up the folding chair and patting it for Alec.

“Before the magical healing begins,” Dean crossed his arms. “We have to get a few things straight around here.”

Alec hesitantly sat down.

“This ain’t never happenin’ again,” Dean said. “Not like this.”

With a twist in his gut, Sam could see that Alec was making a pained effort to avoid looking at anything but Dean.

“I-It’s hard,” Alec said. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“I hate to tell you this kid, but that comfy excuse doesn’t cut it anymore,” Dean said. “You got us now, Alec. And you got to get used to the fact that someone is always gonna come and find you.”

Sam felt his eyes burn in frustration. All the little neatly phrased speeches he’d worked out on the drive over were gone. All his explanations and reasons were as meaningless as any poetic apology.

“You get me?” Dean asked. “Because from now on out this means all you’re running from is a talk that’s coming whether you like it or not.”

Sam knew that Dean wasn’t just speaking to his nephew.

“You’re right, Dean,” Alec was looking at the floor again. “And I do I-I want to talk. I want to fix it.”

“Nothing here is broke,” Dean said. “All we have is a uh, a communication breakdown.”

But Sam’s relief was still being distracted by something else.

He couldn’t stop looking at the telephone in the corner. Half hidden in the dark, but set out where it was almost guaranteed to be seen.

Sam suddenly wanted to touch Alec’s denim jacket, torn at the elbows and fraying at the cuffs. His fingertips itched to wipe at the dried mud on Alec’s face and brush at the green brambles that covered his jeans. Because for some reason Sam realized he had expected Alec to look slightly different. He had been anticipating exhaustion, signs of violence, and a pair of bloodshot eyes to match. But instead of hysteria and nervous energy, the boy appeared calm and rested. Sam’s gaze fell on the only sign of injury that he could see without stepping any closer.

“What happened to your hands, Alec?”

Alec looked down at his skinned knuckles.

Sam couldn’t read the blank look of surprise that was suddenly on his son’s face. With another sinking sensation, Sam realized that there were a few black drops of blood spotted on Alec’s jacket and on the front of his shirt.

Dean let out a loud sigh next to him as a not so subtle indicator to start the peace talks.

“Okay, Alec,” Sam saw Alec’s shoulders tense. “It’s time to talk.”

“Sam, I--”

“No. Me first.”

And all at once, Sam decided he had plenty to talk about. About the strange laughter he’d heard, about the dropped cell phone and maybe even something about that warning that had been whispered in the quiet of the church. He’d like to discuss the time of the phone call Alec made and why anyone would pick this hole out in the middle of nowhere to do some soul searching. Sam was going to lay it all out in the open and let the chips fall as they may. Feeling a surge of lightheaded nausea, Sam also knew that once he said it, there‘d be no taking it back--

He froze when Alec’s arms were suddenly around him.

“Please, Sam,” Alec said. “I am so sorry.”

Sam quickly realized he wasn’t being crushed.

“Sam, I messed up and I know what I did was wrong,” Alec’s voice broke. “Please, I don’t care what I have to do to make it right. I have to make it right. I don‘t have anywhere to go now. You are all I got.”

Sam pushed Alec away to study his face.

“I’ll do anything, Sam. P-Please! I-I’ll do anything you tell me to! I swear I‘ll--”

“Wait,” Sam said carefully. “Just… wait a second.”

Dean shifted uncertainly behind them.

It was his son’s face. Alec’s skin was paler than usual with hectic spots of red flushed on his cheeks like he had a fever. But there was nothing lurking behind those green eyes but a sadness and desperation that Sam hadn’t realized he’d gotten used to seeing over the past few months.

“Please,” Alec’s grip on Sam’s forearms was beginning to hurt. “I-I don’t want to be alone. Please don’t leave me alone here. I’m so tired, Sam. I just want to go home. Please, take me home.”

“Okay, okay, just calm down,” Sam pulled him back. “It’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry,” Alec was crying. “I don’t know what to do. I’m just sorry. I‘m sorry.”

“M-Me too,” Sam told him. “I’m sorry too.”

Sam held on tighter when Alec began to shake like he was going to fall apart. Squeezing his eyes closed, Sam realized he had been wrong about what he thought he knew about this boy. There was more sadness and anger here than he had ever allowed himself to really see. And it was so strange that it was all so clear now when he couldn’t read a single thought coming from his son’s mind.

“Please, Sam, please don’t leave me here.”

“It will be fine,” Sam wanted to mean it. “I promise.”

Feeling the damp heat of Alec’s face pressed into his shoulder, Sam realized he recognized the scent of his child. He was so accustomed to relying on what his mind could provide that the simplest of physical details often fell to the wayside. The trembling body in his arms belonged to him. He knew it like he knew the feel and sound of his own brother.

“I’m sorry, Sam--” Alec was having trouble talking. “D-Dean, I’m--I--”

“Throttle down, kiddo,” Dean rolled his shirt sleeve up over his hand to wipe the tears and snot off of Alec’s face. “But better out than in, huh?”

Alec tried to smile.

“Let's get out of here,” Sam took a second to refocus. “We can go somewhere and sit down and-and get him something to eat.” For some reason he couldn’t bear the thought of standing in this dank ruin for one more second. Pushing Alec in front of him, they headed for the bright sunlight waiting outside the front doorway.

“Great idea,” Dean said. “Who wants pancakes?”

“Are we going home?” Alec wiped at his swollen eyes. “I remember what I did. The house is still there right?”

“No thanks to you,” Dean glanced back over at him. “But don’t worry, that shit is coming straight out of your allowance.”

“I’m sorry.”

The repeated sound of Alec’s apologies made Sam's throbbing head hurt even worse. If he heard the word ‘sorry’ one more time he thought he might lose it and start screaming. They would have a real talk later. He would explain that none of this was Alec’s fault and everything would be okay again. But not right now in the middle of the woods.

As soon as Sam’s boots hit the mossy stones steps he already felt ten times better. By the time they were all walking in the fresh air under the trees it was as if they’d arrived into another universe all together. Walking ahead of them, Alec quickly got into the back of the car and slammed the door without saying another word.

“We gotta be back home by tonight,” Dean said. “Before sundown at least.”

Sam tried to absorb the information but he was still busy attempting to reassure himself that they’d really found Alec and gotten him in the car. Alec was safe. Everything was okay for now. And anything that wasn’t could be dealt with when it needed to be.

“You listenin'?”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s the rush?” Sam asked. “Shouldn't we be looking for new windows or something--”

“We got a guest coming in from out of town.”

Sam almost asked who but he knew already. He should have known Dean called Bobby at some point between the house blowing up and Alec taking off.

“It'll be great to see him,” Sam was surprised to know he meant it. “We could sure use his help.”

Dean paused to give Sam a look over the roof before sliding into the driver’s side.

And for once in his life, Sam wasn’t exactly sure what was on his brother’s mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know, I don't get hawt about crossovers either. But this cross did not let me go. I think I get it. Clap your hands and believe.
> 
>  
> 
> _Sam POV. Everything continues to really really really (go to hell) change._

Seeing a man like Bobby was always an occasion even if it wasn’t always a happy one.

However, this time when they pulled up in the car and saw the old hunter waiting on their porch, there was no dread at his appearance. Because today was a special occasion that wouldn’t come around again in their lifetimes. It was the day Sam got to introduce his son to his grandfather for the first time.

Maybe not by blood, but something stronger than simple heritage could give any man a family.

“Glad you made it, Bobby,” Dean was up the stairs already. “You said you were makin’ good time but I didn’t think you’d beat us home.”

“I’m the one that’s old, not my wheels,” Bobby allowed himself to be hugged and returned the rough kiss on the cheek. “Unless there was gonna be a Winchester Christmas card comin‘ I figured I better get up here to see your boy for myself.”

Everyone quieted as Alec slowly got out of the car. The boy looked like he’d rather be doing pretty much anything besides bonding with a stranger among the debris of their shattered house. And as much as Sam wanted Bobby and his son to meet, he also wished it had come just one day later. Maybe even an extra few hours. Everything between them still felt left in mid-air, raw and uncertain.

“Howdy, son,” Bobby said. “You sure are a lot taller than I pictured.”

As soon as Bobby got up from his chair and held his arms out for Alec, Sam realized the tension he’d been holding onto the last few days was only going to get worse.

“Hi there, Bob,” Alec said. “I-I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All bad I bet,” Bobby turned him around and slapped him on the rear. “Look atcha. You got those damn wobbly legs just like your uncle.”

“Should I dig out the camcorder?” Dean asked. “You know, for posterity and such.”

“I bet he can point a rifle like your old man too, never met a Winchester that couldn’t shame me on the firing range,” Bobby half laughed in wonder. “But he’s got something of his mama in those eyes, that’s for sure. I can see it right there.”

Sam could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Bobby Singer cry.

“You boys did it,” Bobby’s voice stayed steady. “You sons of guns really did it. Look at him, Sam. Would you just look at him. Spittin’ image of your Jess. And you too. Hell, I think I can see some John in there too if I squint.”

Pulling his T-shirt collar up over his eyes, Dean suddenly couldn’t stop clearing his throat. Sam just kept nodding because he didn’t trust himself to say anything without humiliating himself either. His brother mumbled something about getting their dinner started, and the porch door banged shut behind him. But Sam was distracted by something other than Bobby finally being able to wrap his arms around the long lost member of their small family.

Sam couldn’t stop looking at Alec’s eyes.

Alec was watching Bobby with a cold detachment that Sam had never seen before.

And to Sam’s shock, he realized that it made him nervous.

Pushing back the tug of worry, Sam attempted to touch the thoughts of both men and immediately found a brief flash of dizzy joy from the old hunter. But Alec was as blank as he looked. His son had no reaction to the warmth of the gnarled hand that settled on his face. There was even obvious aversion when Bobby used his fingertips to read the lines on the palms of Alec’s hands. Every gesture of affection did nothing but move Alec to sigh in impatience for when the inspection would be over.

Sam stopped clenching his jaw and willed himself to relax. His fear that Alec could have somehow become unpredictable was irrational and ridiculous. Alec had reacted the other day out of stress and rage. And if Sam really wanted to be honest with himself, his son’s violence was fairly justified considering the circumstances. But that did not make his child a loaded weapon and he was nothing to be afraid of.

When Alec ceased answering Bobby’s questions all together, Sam made an excuse for his son to leave. But before he slipped away, Sam stopped him by the wrist and looked him in the eye.

“We’ll talk later,” Sam said. “We’ll talk about everything. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sam released his arm.

“Sir?”

Sam wasn’t used to being addressed as ‘sir’ unless Alec was extremely upset, utterly distracted or very pissed off. Alec didn’t appear much like any of the above at the moment. Sam glanced over at Bobby but the old man was busy blowing his nose in a bandanna.

“What room should I bunk in, sir?” Alec asked.

“Oh, right.“ With the current state of the house the attic was probably six feet under in broken book shelves and everything that had been squeezed into them. “We’ll figure that out later, but for right now start cleaning up the downstairs.”

“Why?”

Sam studied that detachment again and wondered if maybe Alec was more exhausted than he’d been letting on. “Because it’s a mess.”

Alec disappeared into the house without another word.

“Sorry about that,” Sam said. “Usually we can’t get him to stop talking. Especially to people he doesn‘t know.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

"We’ve had a tough few days,” Sam said. “We’re all a little tired I guess.”

“Dean mentioned on the phone that y’all had a little… altercation,” Bobby pushed a boot through a pile of broken glass and then looked around at more of the same all over the yard. “I hope you checked your gas lines.”

“When we do something, we do it right,” Sam forced a smile. “I’ll tell you all about it if you want. But-But everything’s okay now. Everything’s really fine.”

Bobby studied him for a second before shaking his head. “Get my bags would ya? My knees are killin’ me.”

“You must be beat,” Sam picked up the duffels. “You shouldn’t be making these kinds of trips by yourself anymore.”

“I just need a beer,” Bobby said. “And your bed. I’m done past sleepin’ on a floor in dumps like this.”

With a laugh, Sam brought him inside and got ready to give the old hunter anything he wanted.

 

 

 

 

Sam sometimes knew when he was dreaming.

The way his hands passed through the still air felt languid and unfettered. When he shifted his weight there was an afterthought of gravity. When he inhaled and exhaled there was a suggestion that the arc of bizarre sky above held an atmosphere.

He was back in the cornfield behind the house.

The deepest part of night had come and the cold settled on his skin like dew turned to frost. Rain had turned the endless rows of corn into troughs of mud, his feet moving through it like molasses if he let it. But he found he could move more easily if he wanted to. All he had to do was exert a thrumming energy that was coiled and ready in every sinew and muscle.

And then he was running.

Moving faster than he ever had in his life, the molten pinpoints of stars blurred into lines overhead with the flashing white face of the moon.

He was lost.

He was alone.

But this wasn’t Sam’s body, or his hands when he looked down at his open palms. This was Alec. This was his son’s frantic gasp coming short and steady as he ripped through wall after wall of the cornstalks. Sam willed his own calm towards his son, assuring Alec that Sam knew this land. He‘d traveled it more times that he could count and he could guide them easily through its maze of rows.

North, West, East, South.

But each direction took them nowhere. Breaking through row after row after row, they only emerged to find another wall of cornstalks and more of the same on the other side. Alec’s panic rose and obliterated Sam’s careful composure as he began to understand that this was made to never end. Every shout for help was eaten by the wind, every word stolen and snatched out of the air as it left his mouth. He could run forever and ever, and never reach the borders of nightfall descending with its veil of stars on the unattainable horizon.

Bright hot fear made Sam’s breath hitch in his chest as he heard his son’s voice.

__

Lost.  
I can’t see.  
Trapped.  
Can anyone hear me?  
Can you hear me?  
I can’t see. I can’t find you.  
Help me.  
Help me, Sam--

__

__

Sam woke up with a gasp under a sweat soaked sheet.

His hands quickly went to his face, the whip of the corn stalks still burning like fire across his cheeks. Looking down at his shaking fingers he half-expected to see blood but there was none. Kicking away the sheet, he looked beside him to see his brother still deep in sleep. Bobby had taken Sam’s room, and Dean had given his to Alec. So they were sharing another one on the second floor.

Alec.

It was in the middle of the night but Sam needed to see him. He walked through the dark house and was glad to find the door wide open. Not caring if it woke him, Sam sat down on the squeaky mattress and brushed his hands across Alec’s cheeks.

But there were no marks there. No slashes or cuts. His skin was completely unmarred.

Alec’s eyes blinked open. “Sam?”

Sam pressed his hands down on Alec’s shoulders when he tried to rise. “It’s nothing,“ he took a deep breath and tried to stop his hands from shaking. It wasn’t the first time he had dreamed of something that had felt painfully real. “Sorry I woke you, I just thought I heard something.”

Alec blinked sleepily around the room in dull concern.

“I-I just had a bad dream,” Sam said. “Go back to sleep."

Flipping around in his blankets, Alec turned towards the wall and did just that.

Once Sam got back into the hallway and shut the door behind him, he felt a little foolish. He had to start listening to his own advice and get some real sleep like everyone else. It wasn’t easy crammed in that queen sized on the second floor, but it beat the sofa. And he didn’t want to admit it, but having his brother in the same room come bedtime never failed to put him at ease.

Some habits died hard or not at all.

“That you, Sam?“

He didn’t want to go back to bed and to his relieved surprise, Sam found that he didn’t have to. Bobby was out on the back porch sitting in the old recliner they’d pulled out of the garage a few months back. It stunk like mold and fertilizer but it was still probably the most comfortable chair they owned.

“Can’t sleep, huh?” Bobby asked around a cigar.

“What about yourself?” Sam sat down on the stairs next to him. “Shouldn’t you be passed out by now? I forgot how many beers you and Dean can put away in one football game.”

“Thank the saints for overtime.”

Bobby chuckled in a low dry way that made Sam think about how many years the man had spent on the planet. And call it luck or karma, he was convinced that the old hunter was going to outlive them all. He took a bottle of beer out of the cooler and clinked it against Bobby’s.

“I’m worn out but good,” Bobby said. “All this travelin’ gets harder every year.”

“Next time we’ll come see you.”

“I’d like that.”

Sam was suddenly aware this was the first time he’d had a moment to be alone with Bobby. Ever since they had gotten home the previous evening, it had been nothing short of a loud family reunion. Alec hadn’t exactly taken to the party but he sat at the dinner table and politely laughed at all of Bobby’s jokes.

“Your boy,” Bobby said. “He sure is somethin’.”

Unsure of what the man meant by that, Sam decided to just nod in agreement.

“We gotta check ‘im for a few things tho‘.”

Sam sighed. “I know.”

“I take it you don’t think he’ll volunteer.”

“No,” Sam shook his head. “No, I don’t.

“Those laboratories messed up a lot of kids up over there,” Bobby sipped his beer. “We need to do a little messing ourselves but it ain’t too bad. All I need is a few hours. I check him for all the marks and then we tuck him back into bed and that’ll be that.”

“Are you talking about drugging him?”

“I never met a Winchester that didn’t like hitting a bullseye, and I never met one that didn’t like hitting a bottle either,” Bobby shrugged. “So I was thinkin’ more along the lines of a six pack and some tequila.”

Sam uncomfortably tipped his beer to his lips.

“I got a few things done already,” Bobby said. “But I’ll need to see him all over to get the whole picture. So far all I’ve got in my notes are the scars that I can see on his face and arms.”

Sam wondered about getting into the cabinets to find something a little stronger than a Budweiser.

“You know anything about that new one on his forearm?” Bobby asked. “It goes straight down perfect-like.”

Sam shut his eyes. “He-He had an accident while he was sleep walking.” Lying to Bobby had been in the plan but it burned a lot worse than he thought it would. “Put his arm through a window and needed a few stitches.”

They were both quiet while the crickets sang in the tall grass. A gust of wind rippled through the corn and reminded Sam unpleasantly of his dream. The horrible sensation of being trapped in a wide open space was still vivid in his mind. Shuddering with a cold wash of claustrophobia, he was grateful that he didn‘t experience the sickening sensation very often. In fact, it surprised him to realize that he’d actually felt it twice that day. The first time had been when he wanted to leave that rotting homestead where Alec had squatted for the night. It had felt like the walls were about to close in over his head. It had felt as if lingering too long would have trapped him there forever to smother in the dark--

“You all right, son?”

“Yeah,” Sam breathed. “Sorry.”

“Well, I got a few things to say if you’ll hear it.”

Sam looked uncertainly at the old man hunched in the chair. That gaze of his never got weak even if his body had.

“Alec’s got a lot of power in ‘im, Sam.”

“I know.”

“It took you a lot of years to get on top of your stuff and you had a few people on your side helping it along,” Bobby sighed. “But Alec’s been flying solo for a long time. You’ll really have to watch him close.”

“I took him to the morgue,” Sam said. “I’ve started to train him.”

Bobby nodded in approval but he still looked like he had something on his mind.

“I can do it, Bobby.” Sam told him. “I know I can help him.”

Bobby never had any trouble seeing right through a good puzzle. He was after all, the man that had gotten them inside the Manticore databases in the first place. But Sam didn’t want to think about how the whole careful balance he’d created could come crashing down with just one more question. He started to grind his teeth slow and hard to avoid gnawing on the inside of his lip.

“Sam, we need to talk about something.”

“Sure, Bobby,” Sam tasted blood in mouth. “Anything.”

“I didn’t want to bring it up but, it was all there in the files on X5-494 so I know you’ve read it. I know it was hell to read all that shit Manticore was up to. And I know that you don’t want what happened to those other kids to ever happen to Alec.”

Sam felt something painful tighten in his chest.

“Alec isn’t like them.”

“I’m not sayin’ he is but the records stated a few times that your kid had a couple of procedures performed after he got old enough. Procedures on replicating his DNA.”

“Yeah,” Sam said numbly. “I remember.”

“There were at least two living clones completed a few years after they got hold of Alec. Those records also had a lot to say about how both those clones had to be destroyed because they weren‘t right in the head. In fact, I think one of those reports said ‘a sociopathic narcissist with homicidal tendencies‘--”

“Bobby, please,” Sam was having trouble breathing. “I can’t… I can’t talk about that right now.” Clones. Twins. Even if those doomed X5s hadn’t shared the same birth mother they were still composed of the same DNA that would have made them Sam’s children.

“And maybe you’ll never want to talk about it ever,” Bobby muttered. “But you’d better remember that Manticore couldn’t get a handle on some of their own stuff. And Alec is no better or worse than anything else that came off their damned assembly lines.”

The next gulp of beer tasted bitter and spoiled.

“I put some holy water in his food,” Bobby said softly. “I put a few wards where he’s slept and been.”

Sam felt his heart pound in his chest. He knew the old hunter would have put precaution before sentiment any day of the week. In fact, Sam would bet the Chevy that he and his brother had gotten dosed too just for good measure.

“And so far and as best as I can tell,” Bobby said. “Alec is clear.”

Sam turned at the strange tone in the man’s voice. “You don’t sound very happy about that.”

Bobby hunched down further in his chair, his shoulders seemingly more frail than Sam had noticed in a long time. “That’s because maybe I’m not, Sam.”

Sam felt a flare of unexpected resentment. “If you know something about my son you’d better come out and say it.”

“How ‘bout you? Anything going on with you lately that you’d like to talk about? Anything weird that might be keeping you up at night?”

Sam felt his face flush red but he bit back the next angry words on his lips. There was nothing wrong with his son that wasn’t wrong with him. All of Alec’s abilities were a direct result of his lineage which belonged to Sam as much as any one of those monstrosities that Manticore kept locked in their basement. And if Sam couldn’t change what happened to Alec than he was going to do what he could. And that was everything in his power to protect his child from anyone who found Alec’s existence a problem that needed to be solved.

“Sam?”

“Everything’s been fine,” Sam said evenly. “Besides that fight everything around here has been going really well.”

“I can smell somethin’ ain’t right around here,“ Bobby cocked his head at Sam. “And I think you and your brother are thinkin’ the same thing.”

“Maybe we‘re all wrong.”

“I hope so, son.“ Bobby breathed a laugh that fogged in the early morning air. “I sincerely do hope so.”

Sam told Bobby good night and went back into the house. Suppressing the urge to check in on Alec one more time, he slowly made his way up the stairs instead. He had no doubt in Bobby’s ability to uncover the truth.

He was just worried how much of it the old hunter might actually find.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sam POV. Everything continues to really go to hell change._ OOOOsnappish. Even I'm nervous.

After a couple days went by the house started to look something close to normal again.

The place had never been quite that orderly in the first place so a few extra piles of crap where there had been none before didn’t seem like such a big deal. All the missing doors either got screwed back into place or some plastic tarp stapled in to keep the rain out.

Bobby spent some time to get reacquainted with the jumpy apparition of Pastor Jim. As the new windows were slowly installed Dean got to know his power tools a whole lot better too. And to Sam’s surprise, Alec dropped his usual busy schedule that kept him out at all hours and started to stick close to home. The only member of the household not getting back into the groove of things was Sam, but he knew exactly where he needed to pick up again. Unfortunately, resuming normalcy meant taking back up his duties in the church no matter how little he felt like doing it.

His fingers traced the frail pages of prayer in the book on his desk…

Our Father,  
forgive all our misdeeds  
and wipe away our sin,  
for you are great and compassionate;  
your mercy knows no bounds.  
My heart lies before you, O my God.  
Look deep within it.  
See these memories of mine, for you are my hope.

Placing a leather bookmark by the chapter he was going to use during the service, Sam let out a few deep breaths in an attempt to relax. For some reason the deceit he practiced for so many years on the citizens of the town had never felt as utterly abhorrent to him as it did now. It had been a long time since putting on the collar had incited any guilt, but he figured that these days he had more than enough shame to spread around and share with everybody.

“Sam?”

He turned at the sound of Alec’s voice.

“Sam? Are you home?”

“Up here, Alec.”

Setting the large bible aside, he finished removing his regular shirt and pulled out a clean one out of the closet to wear. After pulling a brush through his hair and tossing cold water across his face, he might almost appear like a sane person that had gotten some sleep sometime in the last week.

“Up where?” Alec asked from the stairs.

The question made Sam heavy with a melancholy he hadn‘t been able to shake since the night Alec ran away. There was a time not long ago when his son would have simply reached out with a venturing thought as easily as speaking his name.

“Down the hall,” Sam said. “In the office.”

Sam couldn’t feel him coming closer but he could easily hear the footsteps on the floorboards.

“Hi, Sam.”

Alec looked so calm all the time these days. The anxious and happy energy Sam had learned to anticipate had been replaced with something watchful and patient. He wasn’t sure how you were supposed to miss someone who was standing right in front of you, but he did.

“Sam, I was wondering if I could--”

“Alec, do you have a few minutes? I know you’re busy but I really think we should talk for a little while.” Sam had tried to have a real talk every time they were alone, but he quickly discovered after several attempts that Alec had been doing his best never to be caught alone for very long. “I’d like to talk about that woman who possessed you, the one that made you hurt yourself and what I did--”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Alec interrupted. “It’s over and I want to put it behind us.”

“But--”

“I said forget it,” Alec’s pained expression shifted into something else. “That should be no problem at all right? Not for you.”

It was Sam’s turn to lower his eyes. Whenever he did manage any communication with Alec, there was a lot of this. A causal cruelty in his words that never failed to quickly and effectively shut Sam up. After he finished buttoning his black shirt, he picked up the white collar. “What were you going to ask me?”

Alec suddenly was looking at everything but Sam for some reason. “I wanted to know if I could borrow your truck.”

“You know you don’t have to ask me things like that, Alec,” Sam felt a tug of sadness again. “You can take any of the cars whenever you’d like. Just, you know, watch your back if you’re thinking of the Chevy.”

Alec finally took his gaze off the floor and reluctantly looked at him.

Adjusting the starched white collar in the mirror, Sam glanced over his shoulder to see what the problem was. Eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, Alec was trying his best not to stare. And if Sam didn’t know any better he would have said his son was staring at his freshly pressed clerical blacks.

“Is something wrong, Alec?”

“Yeah. I mean no,” Alec was nodding and then shaking his head. “Y-You just look really nice that‘s all.”

Sam’s mouth twitched but he didn’t smile. Alec had given the strange compliment of ‘nice’ almost literally. Like Sam looked ‘good’ opposed to ‘bad’. Virtuous verses Evil.

Then it happened.

Something burst repeatedly behind Sam’s eyes like the blinding flash of a camera going off at high speed. Squeezing his hand into a fist on his desk, he feigned the impact so Alec wouldn’t be aware that he’d felt it. Something was getting past the wall Alec had set up around his mind and whatever it was, it was the first thing Sam had sensed from him in days. Stretching his mind out wide like a net, Sam attempted to catch whatever he could before it sputtered out and turned dark again.

Sam groaned when it struck harder.

It was a surge of longing so deep and desperate that Sam would have called it desire if it hadn’t been from his own son… It flickered again, on and off with the images of vaulted ceilings and stretches of stained glass that Sam had never seen before. The hollow echo of a priest’s voice recited an evening prayer and the shimmer of red votives illuminated the plaster statues of the each and every saint…

_stone steps lit by candlelight  
the gentle visage of the Virgin  
looking down over the bleeding body of the Christ Child in Her arms--_

“Are you okay, Sam?”

For the second time that week Alec’s arms were around him and Sam wasn’t sure why. Looking around the room in confusion, Sam realized his legs and knees were shaking too badly to keep himself standing.

“You felt that didn’t you?” Alec looked vaguely guilty. “I’m really sorry. I‘ve been trying so hard not to do that. And let me tell ya, hiding from you isn‘t easy.”

He was guided to a chair and sat down, dully aware of Alec’s fingers on his face and mouth in an oddly intimate gesture before pulling away.

“Alec, w-what happened?”

“I want you to forget what you just saw.”

“What? No. What was that, Alec? What did you do--”

“I said to forget it,” Alec‘s gaze softened. “Forget all of it right now.”

Sam blinked and suddenly wondered when he had taken a seat across the room. He didn’t recall sitting down and he didn’t know how all those books got knocked onto the floor either. Looking with faint panic at his watch, he realized he had to get to the church. Nothing was ready and he hadn‘t been in the place in days.

But Alec was looking at him expectantly and he had no idea why.

“I’m sorry…,” Sam felt the start of a headache begin to throb behind his eyes. “… did… did you just say something?”

“Are you giving a sermon soon?” Alec asked.

“Sermon,” Sam put his hand on the bible on his desk. “I was preparing a sermon.”

“When is it, Sam?”

“In fifteen minutes,” he found his satchel and shoved the bible in it. “I-I‘m gonna be late.”

Alec looked hesitant to leave, finding books and papers on the shelves as an excuse to stay. His son had been avoiding him so much lately that Sam felt the urge to take an opportunity when he saw one.

“Would-would you like to help me set up for the service?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Alec said immediately. “I would like to do that.”

Sam knew he should have been more cautious at his willingness, but he couldn’t help feeling a deep seated relief when Alec followed him outside and into the church. He had long since decided that he had to keep the boy in sight as much as possible for now. His son’s behavior was getting too offbeat to dismiss to a fight no matter how horrible it had been. In fact, Alec’s eagerness to put the bibles in the pews helped Sam come to another decision that he hadn’t quite come to terms with yet.

It was time to let Bobby do some work.

 

 

 

 

 

The plan was simple, but it didn’t make Sam feel any better.

“You wanna get him wasted?” Dean asked. “Is that really wise?”

“Bobby needs some time,” Sam said. “This is the only way without getting Alec… upset.”

“You think the kid is going to just sleep right through one of Bobby’s rituals?”

“Yes,” Sam sat back on the sofa. “All it requires is some reading. And a physical exam.”

They’d estimated about an hour of privacy before Bobby and Alec returned from their fake errand in town, and Sam was using it to get ready. All that was really required was a set of glasses out on the table and the pretense that it was time for a celebration, but he also had to gear his mind up too. Because if he wasn’t as neatly blank as Alec was, his son might be able to read his intentions from a mile away.

“We checked him all over in Seattle,” Dean said. “Matter of fact, it was the first thing we did after we all introduced ourselves.”

“Your point being?”

“My point being that the only thing we found was his bar code and that‘s all we‘re gonna find now.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

“You heard what Bobby said as well I did. Alec shows no signs of possession. He waltzes in and out the traps, he’s kept down a few gallons of holy water and he’s even wearing the old necklace Bobby gave you before we got inked.”

“Then maybe all that means is that its not a form of possession,“ Sam mumbled. “Maybe it’s something we’ve never seen before.”

“What haven’t we seen before?” Dean demanded.

“That’s a good question.”

His brother yanked back the curtain on the look out for Alec and Bobby’s return. Sam didn’t like the real reason neither one of them had spoken their fears about Alec out loud until now. Everyone had been keeping quiet and walking on eggshells because of Alec’s constant presence in the house and the possibility of being overheard. They were painfully aware of what could happen when an enraged X5 lost control and no one was ready to see it happen again.

Sam didn’t want to admit that everyone had become a little bit afraid of Alec.

Including himself.

“It just seems like its happening too fast,“ Dean poured himself a shot of bourbon and swallowed it slow. “I don’t like this.”

Sam understood what Dean meant. All of this felt like an orchestrated betrayal of the boy’s trust but there were too many things were going on that couldn’t be ignored any longer. Sam knew that if something hadn’t already happened, something was coming and he had to stop it before this situation spun even further out of his control…

“When are they coming back?” Dean asked.

Sam glanced uneasily at the clock. “’Bout an hour maybe.”

Sitting down and standing up a few times, Dean decided to stay standing. His agitation shifting into a nervousness that made Sam even more anxious than he already was.

“We got some time to talk then, Sam.”

He’d had plenty of time alone with his brother over the past few days and he had known with an absolute certainty that Dean was going to start this dreaded conversation eventually. Even if Alec had told him nothing about what Sam had done, Dean never had any trouble knowing when Sam had something to hide.

“I-I have something I got to tell you, Sammy.”

Sam stilled at the words he hadn‘t been expecting to hear.

“I didn’t want to say anything because with everything going on I figured… well, I figured I was just tired but…but I…”

“Dean?” Sam instinctively got scared whenever he realized his older brother was too. “What is it?”

“That other night, I uh,” Dean laughed nervously. “I guess I’m having a little trouble remembering what happened. Like whole hours are gone and I don‘t know what I was doing.”

Sam scrubbed his hands over his face and slowly sunk down onto the sofa. So this was it. Dean actually remembered not remembering Sam‘s cover up with the dead woman‘s ashes. A million explanations raced through Sam’s head and left him without anything to say at all.

“I slept real hard after, and I do remember going to bed that night, but I barely remember talking to Alec out there. But I don’t remember the drive home from the Smith house at all.”

Sam paused to study his brother’s face. “Wait… wait… you’re having trouble remembering which night exactly?”

“The other night,” Dean downed another shot. “The night you guys blew up the house and Alec took off.”

Alec had gone up to the Smith house days after they buried the suicide. And although Sam was profoundly relieved that Dean was talking about that night, he also felt a fierce surge of anger at the thought that anyone else could have possibly tampered with his brother’s head. Someone who had abilities like Sam did. Someone who would know precisely how to cut and trim away a man’s mind until only what they wanted was left behind…

“Dean, this is really important,” Sam said carefully. “You have to tell me exactly what you do remember.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like some little kid!”

“I’m sorry, I just, look, something weird has been going on here ever since that night and-”

“No kidding!” Dean stood up and started pacing. “Alec never leaves the freakin’ house now. Not even the backyard. He doesn’t do anything but hang out in the church.”

“What?” Sam blinked in confusion. “I’ve only seen him in there a few times during services.”

“You don’t see him because he’s in there whenever you aren’t.”

“What the--”

“He’s been acting like a freak ever since you guys had that fight,” Dean said. “And so have you, Sam.”

Sam opened his mouth and shut it again.

Dean looked like he wanted to stay on the other side of the room with the whiskey but he took a deep breath before taking a seat next to Sam on the couch. Slugging back another shot, he braced himself before clearing his throat and settling his elbows on his knees.

“I remember it was a real nice night, right?”

Sam listened closely.

“I closed up the garage and my phone started ringing. I didn‘t recognize the ID on it but it was Alec,” his ring nervously tapped against the bottle. “I remember him crying real hard and telling me where he was.”

“T-Then what?”

“I remember pulling up to the Smith house. I remember Alec being there and then… and then all of a sudden I was back here again. Front door was knocked down and everything was everywhere. I-I grabbed my gun and a flashlight and I found you out back,” Dean sighed. “You know the rest.”

Sam sat back and resisted the urge to cover his face again.

“You don’t think that …maybe…the way Alec‘s been actin‘….” Dean fidgeted with the shot glass in his hands. “You don’t think that Alec did something to me? Something to my head?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Sam tried not to hear the wounded edge to his brother’s voice. The waver of betrayal, the hurt and anger.

“Well, whatever,” Dean breathed and tried to put a smile back in place. “Bobby will figure it out right?”

“Yeah,” Sam didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sure he will.”

“But this ain’t gonna do it,” Dean picked up the near depleted whiskey. “Not even close. I‘ve watched this kid close a bar down and walk a straight line to the car.”

They didn’t exactly have time to go buy another ten cases of malt liquor. Thinking of some of the dusty wine bottles down in the basement, Sam heard the rattle of pills before he saw the plastic bottle in his brother’s hand.

“Smash a few of them up,“ Dean tossed it to him. “It’ll give us the time we need to check him out.”

It appeared that his brother wasn’t so opposed to the tactic as Sam thought.

“Sam, there’s one other thing… I don’t know if I should even say it, because it’s probably nothing. I think it might even sound a little nuts.”

“I dunno,“ Sam considered the bottle of pills. “Nothing right now would sound bizarre to me.”

“Well, when I drove up to the Smith house that night, I had to park down the road because of that tree that fell out front and … and when I was walking up to the place I thought I heard Alec talking to someone inside, but it was loud, like a fight.”

They both turned at the sound of Bobby’s car pulling up in front of the house.

“Then I saw Alec standing by the window, and I could have sworn for a second that he wasn’t standing there alone.”

“What do you mean?” Sam didn’t like the bewildered look on his brother’s face. “Who was with him?”

Dean grabbed the whiskey bottle again. “That’s just it, it looked like Alec was standing right next to… himself.”

The front door opened loudly on its hinges, Bobby carrying a six pack and Alec carrying two cases of Bud under each arm. The boy had a reasonable facsimile of a smile on his face, set perfectly in place like every canned emotion Sam had seen in the past few days.

“You boys ready for the game?” Bobby winked. “All bets must be placed on the table before kick-off.”

“I’m gonna go for the ten-point spread,” Alec said. “I figure why not right? I didn’t really need that hundred bucks anyway.”

“Thatta boy,” Bobby said. “Doesn’t pay to live it safe.”

Sam watched Dean force himself not to flinch when Alec patted him on the arm. He watched Bobby play the scene like an actor out to get an award. But listening to Alec’s measured laughter, he couldn’t help staring once again at the detachment in his son’s eyes. And all at once it occurred to him that the familiar color, shape and feel of a body would be a perfect guise to hide in if you were indeed, not hiding anything at all.

Sam stared at the human being that moved and spoke like his son.

This could be a case where a person was not in anyway being manipulated, coerced or controlled. Sam allowed himself to consider that all of his son’s atypical displays of emotion and strange cruelty might instead be someone else’s poor attempt at imitating the real thing. The young man wearing Alec’s jacket and boots might just be a bad copy that was walking undetected amongst them because of a naturally identical face that no one would think twice to question.

“Want a beer, Sam?” Alec held out one of the frosty bottles.

Sam slowly took it and made sure he did it with a big smile.

Only one of them will find you. The smartest. The fastest. The most dangerous.

For the very first time it occurred to Sam that his father might not have meant a demon.

But another X5.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beware. 
> 
> _Sam POV. Everything continues (to really go to hell) change. There was a childlike reversion to simple questions and demands of stunned disbelief.....-- > But Dean hadn’t figured the problem out all the way down to its inevitable conclusion like Sam had. _

Sam knew he had to do play this right or everyone in the house would be dead before they hit the floor.

The blare of the television was like the muted static of spirits that constantly churned underneath coherent thought. It was white noise that soothed as much as it focused every thought he had on the thing masquerading as his son. A late night rain had started to fall, pushing in all the thick humidity through the rusted window screens and making the sweat run in a cold trickle down the middle of his back.

“Can’t believe you can stomach this Lite crap,” Dean tossed Bobby a bottle. “Might as well just get back to cooking moonshine in a shed out in the woods.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Bobby grinned. “I like to add a couple packets of kool aid to make it go down smooth.”

“Do cat’s drink?” Alec poured some into an ashtray. “I used to have a dog. It drank anything.”

They all tried not to pause and look at each other uncomfortably.

“You had yourself a dog?” Bobby asked. “Didn’t know those people allowed that kind of thing.”

“It was a secret at first,” Alec said quickly. “We all took turns feeding it and then they let us keep it in the lower exercise yard.”

“You give him a better name than this guy?” Dean spun the small cat counterclockwise on the slick wood floor.

Alec was silent for a moment. “I-I don’t remember,” he dug into the pretzel bowl. “When it got too big to keep around, the staff sergeant said he gave it to the Delta-Echo base down south but I saw it in the dumpster. He shot it.”

The inelegant verbal cliff stepping whilst in mid-story seemed a lot like the other X5 Sam knew.

“It’s okay,” Alec’s smile was back in place. “It was just a dog.”

Pretending to be on his third beer, Sam continued to layer his thoughts one by one until his mind was more solid and impenetrable than what was cloaking the unknown X5. He couldn’t alert his brother or Bobby for fear of tipping the transgenic off, and he couldn’t make a move on his own either unless he wanted a repeat performance of what had happened the other night with even more unpredictable results. Alec had kicked his ass straight into next month and the kid hadn’t even broken a sweat trying.

And this X5 was much more of a threat than Alec. This X5 had more control and he knew specifically how to use it.

Alec.

Sam tried to keep him the furthest from his thoughts.

How many days had it been since that fight? He counted five. Six days once the hands on the clock passed into midnight. For five days his son had been missing and he’d had no idea. For five days Alec could have been taken anywhere, moved any place and bought and sold ten times throughout the network of men that still considered him property.

That was what Sam wanted to believe anyway. Another voice deep down inside kept reminding him of what the more likely probability was. When a hostile X5 assumed a role and replaced a target there was usually very little reason to leave the target alive. Sam looked up when the young man that looked like Alec laughed too loudly at a joke. Dean and Bobby were wary of this boy, but neither one of them knew what Sam was now absolutely certain of.

He just had to wait a little longer.

Sam watched as the two week old kitten flicked a paw in distaste at the puddle of fizzling beer in the water dish. When Alec tried to nudge the bowl closer, the small cat let out a pitiful hiss as it backed up behind Sam’s boots just to be on the safe side. Picking up the indignant animal, Sam let it painfully nestle in his crotch while he scratched behind its ridiculously proportioned ears. Feeling substantially braver from its new perch, it let out a low and menacing hiss again in Alec’s direction.

“They say cats can see things,“ Alec told Sam. “They say they know things too.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“They know evil,” The curious and almost embarrassed smile was one that Alec would have used. “They can see a man’s soul on the outside of his skin. They can see sin like a ripe disease--”

“Alec!” Bobby called. “You’re gonna miss it, they’re down to the ten yard line for Christ’s sake. And yer behind on you’re beer.”

Alec made an unhappy but resigned face at the sight of a freshly uncapped Budweiser.

“Hey,” Sam said. “You want some of the good stuff?”

“Oh yeah,” Alec seemed genuinely relieved. “Yes, sir. Thank you sir.”

Sam excused himself to the kitchen and carefully mixed the crushed pills into a glass. He wasn’t sure if the kid knew it of not, but warm whiskey with a couple of rocks was Alec’s favorite.

 

 

 

 

An hour was all it took.

The rain had turned into a full fledged storm, battering the shutters and dripping rain through the chimneys and gushing down the old eaves. A flash of lightening lit up the room in a stutter of harsh light before leaving them again with the weak lamp by the bedside.

The X5 was resting peacefully.

“Ya think he’s down deep enough?” Bobby asked.

“Close enough,” Dean sighed. “Now what?”

They’d drawn a modified devil’s trap around the bed on the floor and some less fancy stuff on the ceiling. All those new wards that were built and worked exclusively on the half breeds had also been placed throughout the house. Very carefully of course considering they were just as harmful to Sam as they were to--

Whoever this X5 soldier happened to be.

Sam had hoped to prove that this wasn’t Alec to his fellow hunters by doing something other than simply saying it, but all the proof he had was what he knew in his gut. But Bobby was well versed on the insidious practices performed by Manticore. In fact, the man looked almost happy that there was a good reason all his tried and true methods had bore nothing to explain Alec’s behavior. And not to Sam’s surprise, his brother was the least willing to believe it regardless of all the evidence. Dean kept touching Alec’s face and tied hands, unable to accept that the living body right before their eyes was not who they thought it was. No one wanted to reconcile with the fact that they had all been so utterly and completely fooled.

They all should have known better.

They should have been able to tell the difference between a stranger and their own family.

Sam tried not to think too much of Alec’s tears and how tightly his son had held onto him when he’d found him standing in the dark of that old house. He thought of all the things he’d promised Alec out loud and in his prayers.

“But it doesn’t make sense,” Dean was examining the stitched wound that ran up the inside of the X5’s arm. “It all looks so… real.”

“That’s because he is real,” Sam said. “He’s a real clone.”

Dean lifted the shirt to find a large impact bruise the actual Alec had sustained from trying to stop a truck filled with timber from rolling downhill. There were other more minor things. Cuts and scratches. Scrapes and grazes. It was difficult to imagine this boy searching Alec’s body to replicate each injury with slow smooth precision. Inch by inch. Cut by cut. Bruise by bruise.

Sam thought he might throw up.

“B-But how can you be so sure?” Dean circled the bed again. “I mean, it looks like Alec. I drove him home. He sounds like him. Hell, it even smells like him--”

“He‘s a fake, Dean,” Sam said softly. “This clone got to Alec when he ran away that night. Everything after that has been a sham.”

“But if this isn’t Alec, then… who is it?” Dean asked. “And where the hell is the real one?”

There was a childlike reversion to simple questions and demands of stunned disbelief. But Dean hadn’t figured the problem out all the way down to its inevitable conclusion like Sam had. He thought that maybe his brother’s mind simply wasn’t allowing him to reach the horrible and certain end of what this all meant. Because what it meant was so inconceivably unbearable that Sam wasn’t sure how much longer he could still sit in this room without using his mind to slowly and meticulously rip this Manticore clone into one-inch strips of screaming meat.

He shook his head, trying clear his mind of the hideous images.

“Sam?” Dean knelt down in front of him. “Hey, Sam?”

This impostor had taken their child away and murdered him. And Sam had sat in this house while it had happened and done nothing.

“Look at me, Sammy,” Dean was gripping his hand. “We don’t know shit right now, okay? Just hang in there.”

“Help me with this, would ya?” Bobby was looking at the X5’s neck. “I wanna take a look at his bar code.”

“What about it?” Dean rolled the transgenic over. “Doesn’t he have the same one?”

“It’s a completely different series you idjit,” Bobby pulled out a file from under a stack. “Each one of ‘em was marked with a different designation so they could be identified by each other and their owners. And look, this guy right here sure as shit ain’t X5-494.”

Dean lay the X5 back down carefully. “Then who is he?”

“This reads the same pre-coder as Alec’s but it ends in 4-9-3. And see the variation under it there? That’s a manufacturing mark that means this one was cloned, and according to everything I’ve read this clone is supposed to be dead.”

"Shit," Dean dragged a hand through his hair. "What's he doing here?"

Sam sat every still in the chair across the room and watched the bare chest of the X5 rise and fall in sleep. During sleep the resemblance to Alec was flawless. All the tension gathered in the brow, and every hard line that drew the mouth was gone under a serene mask of oblivion. Sam imagined that they would be identical in death as well, everything inside that made them into two entirely separate human beings would vanish into the ether and be gone forever.

Bobby shook his head in wonder. “This boy got whatever power Alec got and maybe more we don’t even know,” he slumped down at the table that had all his texts laid out in piles. “I got a few passages in here that’ll light him up good from the inside out if he’s packing anything extra demonic. If he was sent here by one of ‘em we can find out real quick--”

“No,” Sam quickly sat up, his voice hoarse. “D-Don’t hurt him.”

“Why not?” Dean honestly wanted to know.

“Because he’s Alec’s brother.”

“This is different, Sammy.”

“Different how, Dean? Different that he wasn’t born on a quilt Jess’s grandma made?” Sam felt a sharp pain begin behind his eyes. “Different ‘cause I didn’t cut the cord with my pocketknife?”

“You listen to me,” Dean said. “They built this kid out of spare parts. Every piece of intel we've ever found says the same thing about every second-gen clone that came out of that place. Hell, even their own scientists couldn’t wait to shove the poor bastards down an incinerator.”

“Please,” Sam put his hands on his brother’s and willed Dean to understand. Tightening his grip, he knew was trying to convince himself too. "No matter how they made him, h-he’s still got our blood."

His brother’s resolution stayed firm for about another five seconds before it crumbled. “Damn it,” he shoved Sam’s hands away. “You’re out of your fuckin' mind. We can’t keep him like this forever! What the hell do you want to do?”

“I just got to talk to him,” Sam steadied himself. “That’s all.”

Looking uncertainly at the sleeping X5, Dean let out a long ragged sigh of frustration. Bobby was silent as he slowly shut all his books and blew out the thick white candles one by one. As soon as the last sputtered out, Sam knew the fragile hold they’d had over the transgenic’s sleep would quickly wear off.

“Uh, Sammy, he’s waking up,” Dean said. “Now what?”

“It’s all right,” Sam told him. “I’ve got him.”

Besides some twine knotted around his wrists and ankles, Sam did have him. He had this boy so completely under his thrall that X5-493 would not be able to draw in one single breath if Sam didn’t permit it. He had the transgenic in sway and control, countless threads of invisible steel going in and out and up and down into the ground below, the sky above and in a mile in every direction. The boy knew it as soon as he opened his eyes, his trapped consciousness thrashing ferociously enough to send a tremor rocking through the house. Bobby and Dean looked up at the swinging chandelier and waited to see if the next one would bring down more than dust. But Sam didn’t let his grip ease in the slightest, because even though he was strong, the boy on the bed had been constructed to be a close match.

X5-493’s green eyes glittered wet in anger. “You drugged me,” he growled. “That’s not fair.”

“How many more of you are there?” Sam asked quietly. “Is the other clone alive too?”

The X5 responded by clenching his fists and sending another tremor that shook the walls and made his bed thump repeatedly against the floor boards.

“T-The records,” Bobby coughed on the clouds of falling plaster. “They uh, they documented two clones made from Alec’s original genome: 493 and 492, and they were both cited as destroyed back in ‘09 when the Pulse hit--”

The shaking and thumping abruptly ceased. The X5 twisted in the blankets but he couldn’t move much else besides his mouth. “The records are wrong. Only one of us died at that gate in Wyoming. And my name is Ben now.”

“Ben,” Sam said the word slowly. “What are you doing here, Ben?”

“I-I didn’t think you’d end the game so soon,” Ben seemed distraught. “I would have had something prepared to say. Something nice to fit the occasion.”

“Where’s Alec?” Dean demanded. “What the hell did you do with him?”

“I bet you don’t know that I’m famous?” Ben asked. “I’ve even saved the world once. No one knows because the Pulse is such a big fat secret. But you guys know the real story. You know the truth. But you don’t know that it was _me_ that saved the day. Just like every Winchester, we never get any credit when credit is due.”

“So yer a hero, huh?” Dean asked. “How you figure that?”

“Manticore bred us to open that big gate out in Wyoming. It was the one that was going to start the war rolling. And it wasn’t just me and 492 either, it was a whole bunch of other little X5 kids all in one big circle.”

Dean exchanged a skeptical look with Sam and Bobby before falling into a seat next to Ben on the bed. “So you were there?”

“I knew they’d nail us to the altars but I didn’t care. I knew that the rites might blind me, and the knives might castrate me but I didn’t care. I wanted to be there so I could stop them.”

The room was silent as the distant roll of thunder rumbled over head.

“Wait a second…” Dean rubbed at his head. “Are you tryin’ to tell me that you’re responsible for the Pulse? The gate failed because you screwed it all up on purpose?”

“I had to do it. Manticore had no respect for Her. All those animals wanted was to bring even more mindless animals out from their cages on the other side. So, I didn’t do what they told me. I read the words wrong and the entire thing fell apart. When everyone was dead I ran away.”

“Huh,” Dean lowered his voice as he shouldered into Sam. “I’m not sure if I should thank ‘im or stab ‘im.”

“It was all because of me,” Ben’s pride was tinged with wonder. “Everyone caught fire and burned slow, charring like candlewicks soaked in wax. They screamed and screamed and the gate broke apart and started to fall up through the sky. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You’ve been…“ Sam asked. “On your own since you were ten years old?”

“I’ve been lots of things since I was ten years old.”

“Where’s Alec?”

“Sam, I want you to know that I never expected you to come looking for me,” Ben said. “All of Manticore’s databases clearly said I had died along with every one else on the base the night the gate failed. I understand I’m not like a real person.”

“Ben,“ Sam said. “What have you done with Alec?”

“But I’m better than a real person,” Ben nodded. “And after everything you had done in Seattle, I did everything I could to find you as quickly as I could.”

Sam’s mouth felt dry. “Why?”

“Because you know how to find the gates, Sam,” Ben smiled a real smile. “And all I’ve ever wanted was to try it again. But I want to do it the right way. The men who died that night deserved it. They had no understanding of what these celestial portals of God are really meant for.”

Thunder boomed and shook the windows, the light flickering on and off before it stayed on.

“You’ve seen it for yourself, Sam,” Ben said. “I want to see it. I want to see Her there. I want to join Her on the other side.”

“Join Her?” Sam knelt down. “But Ben, you understand that these gates open to Hell. The gates that weren’t built by demons were fortified by human beings to keep them sealed. They aren‘t meant to be--”

“Everyone thinks that but its not true,” Ben regarded Sam kindly as if he were a ignorant child. “The gates open to many places. The gates were designed to create doors to all the sides in this universe and beyond. Did you _really_ think there could be a Hell, and no Heaven?”

“I need you to tell me something, Ben,“ Sam placed both hands on the clammy burning flesh of Ben’s cheeks, and locked his gaze with the fever bright eyes. “Can you tell me if Alec is still alive?”

Sam had one small spark of hope.

Just one.

Ben’s unadulterated happiness faltered with the strange question. It was clearly understood that he was discussing the divine circumstance of the existence of heaven and all these ridiculous men wanted to know was about some rogue transgenic.

“I don’t know,” Ben suddenly appeared troubled. “I put him so far away. It‘s hard to find them sometimes after you send them so far.”

“Where?” Dean grabbed him by the shoulder. “I’m gonna be needin’ an address.”

“There is no address,” Ben almost laughed. “It’s a trick I learned from the vudun. Why bind the body when you can send the soul away? I don’t know how long he’s been out there, but time moves there differently than it does here and I can barely hear him anymore. Sometimes one day can feel like a year. Sometimes one hundred. Sometimes when I wait too long to find them they‘re just… gone.”

Dean and Bobby exchanged a grim look.

Sam sat forward. “Ben, I’ll help you find a gate.”

“Sam!” Dean hissed. “Sam, no!”

“Shut up, Dean-- j-just let me talk. You want gates? You’ll get them. We’ll hit the road and open as many as you’d like. But I won‘t show you jack shit unless you tell me how to find Alec.”

The innocent hope in Ben’s eyes was enough to make Sam’s heart thud in his throat. The boy that had wept in his arms hadn’t gone anywhere. That had been no circus act of grief and loneliness.

“I can do that,” Ben promised. “I know exactly where his body is. You‘ll need his body first.”

Behind him, Sam could feel his brother’s anger silently shift into deadly rage. He knew Dean’s pistol was out before he heard the safety click off.

“Dean,” Sam didn’t take his eyes off of Ben. “You go with Bobby. You bring Alec back here as fast as you can.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with this freak.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sam said. “Time’s up, Ben.”

“I swear I didn’t want to kill him!” Ben’s eyes started to glimmer and overflow. “I knew if I killed him you would have felt it. I can hide lots of things from you but I couldn’t hide that. Everything would have been ruined before I ever got a chance to--”

Sam jerked backwards when the gun went off less than a foot away from his ear. Shaking his head from the ring of the discharge, he saw Ben curling in around his wounded leg. Dean pressed the hot muzzle against Ben’s other thigh.

“Great pain creates great lucidity,” Dean said. “So make great use of it and tell us where Alec is. Please.”

“That old house I found…” Ben gasped. “I-I was keeping him in the cellar but… but I moved him closer… I used Sam’s truck but no one saw us…”

Dean’s gun slid to rest against Ben’s temple.

“The church,” Ben blurted. “I put him in the church. I-I thought he‘d like it there. It‘s so quiet and-and--”

"See? That wasn't so hard," Dean was already holstering his gun. "Where in the church?"

“One of the crypts,” Ben was distracted by the spreading pool of blood under his thigh. “It’s the pretty one made of black marble all the way in the back.”

Dean was already out the back door with Bobby right behind him. Sam winced at the sound of the tool shed crashing open, his brother ransacking it for shovels, crowbars, and whatever else they might need.

“It’s okay Sam,” Ben said. “I told you. Alec’s not even in there. Not the real parts.”

Sam caught the harsh sob in the back of his throat before he could help himself, his body starting to shake in a way that made him worry if he wasn‘t gong to cause Ben harm by pure accident. But to his surprise, he felt Ben’s hand, sticky with blood, settle over his and gently pat him.

”I could teach you that soul trick some day,“ he left a bloody streak along Sam’s jaw in a strange caress. “But not today. Are they gone yet? I thought they'd never leave.”

Dean and Bobby. Sam slowly understood that the bed secured with all the written wards and magicks were igniting and disappearing in wisps of black smoke. With a half smile, Sam had to hand it to his children. They were an ingenious and unrelenting bunch. He also realized that something was happening to him. The massive amounts of energy he had been using to keep Ben contained was now flowing back in the opposite direction.

“B-Ben,” Sam stammered as he slid down to one knee. “W-What are you doing?”

Ben pulled himself out of the tangle of blankets and regarded him with annoyance. “I can make you do more things than just forget. Lots more.”

Sam felt white hot heat sear behind his eyes as Ben took his lapse in attention to free the rest himself. The young man stood, hauling Sam with him as he went. The transgenic’s weight crumpled on his injured thigh, but being from a resilient stock, he made it to the window for a view of the cornfields just fine.

“T-The nearest gate is hundreds of miles away,” Sam tried to say. “Too far.”

At first Sam didn’t know why the low sound of Ben laughing made his skin crawl, until he realized he had heard the unhinged mirth before. It was the same hollow noise that had echoed back to taunt him the night Alec had vanished into the corn.

“Now it’s our turn, Sam. It is our turn to find the Blue Lady,” Ben said. “Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes.” Sam was having trouble thinking. “I understand.”

“If you don’t mind,” Ben held up his hands. “We don’t have much time.”

Whipping out his switchblade, Sam slashed through the tight binds on Ben’s wrists.

“It was important to me that we do this together, Sam,” Ben watched the knife shine. “It has to be just us or the gate might not come.”

Ben pulled Sam away from the window, their minds interlocked in so many strands and knots that Sam was having trouble seeing and hearing too. But dully, Sam had heard something Ben had said that had made no sense.

The gate might not come?

“I came looking for you for lots of reasons,“ Ben said from beside him. “Your knowledge and your ability. Your rank and favor with both sides of course.”

Sam accidentally grazed his arm with the open switch blade and felt nothing but a vague sting.

“But mostly, Sam, I’m here for your strength.”

Slumping against the wall, Sam knew he was in trouble, but Ben was flooding his senses with a deluge of unyielding composure. A sense of well being and religious zeal that set Sam’s rational thoughts reeling into no where. Sam grazed the blade again across his other arm to try to feel anything besides what had started roaring in his head. With a moan, he tried to fight back the onslaught of a sudden scream of countless voices all clamoring for his attention at the same time.

Hundreds. Thousands. Millions.

The sheer volume of their need was paralyzing. Sam didn’t know who they were. He couldn’t wrap his slurred thoughts around any idea as to where they might have come from.

“Can you hear them, Sam?”

Ben was whispering, his mouth against the skin just below Sam’s ear. A surge of desire flashed through Ben’s mind as the boy’s hands eagerly searched and touched his body. Shuddering with disgust, Sam slid backwards onto the steps when he could no longer keep himself upright. Ben’s mouth was over his, talking and assuring him. “I can hear them too, Sam. They know if we try we can make a gate crack open anywhere we want. Anywhere.”

These screeching voices were not spirits.

They were demons.

Sam felt himself being lifted up, the stairs moving one by one under his boots.

“But first,” Ben said. “You have to get dressed, father.”

Sam closed his eyes when his son kissed him again.

He let his mind go dark when he realized he was kissing him back.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Bobby POV. Everything continues to (go to hell) change._

By the time Bobby made it to the church doors, Dean was nowhere in sight.

The rain was coming down in sheets, flowing off the old steeple roof and running down the vestibule steps like a waterfall. Even though the storm hadn’t knocked out the power none of the lamps were on, the empty pews briefly illuminated by the lightening flashing through the stained glass. Shouldering a duffel and his rifle, Bobby headed down the center aisle as fast as he could go. If memory served, the older crypts were down on the south side of the building where Jim used to keep his arsenal. Bobby paused at the top of the steep stairs to listen.

Somewhere down in the basement, he could hear the sound of metal striking repeatedly against stone.

Cursing his bum knees, he tossed the bag down ahead of him so he could use both hands on the railings. It felt like an eternity by the time he ran out of steps but at least the lights were on down here. He followed the noise until he was headed down another staircase that curved around the boiler room and went directly under the crumbling foundation. The glare of the overhead fluorescents seemed too bright in the narrow corridor of extravagant tombs.

Bobby stopped in his tracks when the clanging abruptly ceased and something large and heavy crashed onto the floor.

There was only one more corner to turn.

A marble slab that had covered the coffin lay like giant puzzle pieces where it had shattered on the ground. Dean had wedged it free with a crowbar and somehow managed to slide the massive thing off all by himself. Bobby kept his distance to give him room to climb over the broken stone to get inside.

“B-Bobby,” Dean panted. “He’s in here.”

Tossing his rifle aside, Bobby held out his hands to the sheet covered body Dean had pulled free from the casket’s confines. Helping as best he could to ease the wrapped form onto the floor, Bobby’s racing heart began to beat even faster. Alec had been loosely but carefully swathed in white cotton material. Not many people in the Western world used death shrouds anymore, and Bobby hadn’t personally seen one outside of a textbook since he’d been down in the Caribbean digging up bad voodoo.

“Alec?” Dean was ripping the layers of cloth away. “A-Alec, I’m here.”

Once the kid’s face was uncovered, Bobby understood how Sam and Dean had been deceived for so long. Their boy and the clone back in the house were identical in every way. But besides some deep cuts across his cheeks, this boy’s skin was as white as the alabaster saint that sat propped against the opposite wall. And the boy didn’t appear to be breathing. Dean was having trouble himself, winded from swinging a crowbar and hands shaking so bad he could barely hold Alec’s wrist to check for a pulse.

“Okay, son,” Bobby guided him aside with a hand on the shoulder. “You just sit tight for now.”

“He’s cold, Bobby,” Dean said. “He’s too cold.”

“Just shush up for a second,” Bobby worked Alec’s arms free of the sheets and checked the pale skin. “Go get me my bag. I dropped it somewhere on the stairs.”

Dean was up and gone.

Bobby lifted Alec’s eyelids to examine his cloudy pupils. He’d seen all sorts of death before and he’d seen all of the shades that existed in between, but this was a new one. No signs of respiratory activity, no necromancy symbols on the palms and not even a trace of sulfur. With professional interest he took off his hat so he could properly lay his ear against the kid’s chest. After a full minute went by he heard the slow but unmistakable thump of a heartbeat.

“I found it,” Dean skidded down onto the floor next to him with the duffel. “What do you need, what do we do--”

“Help me up, son,” Bobby began the laborious process of getting back up onto his feet. “We got to do what Sam said and bring him back to Ben.”

“No, Bobby. No way.”

“There’s nothing I can do,” he sighed. “He put the boy’s soul somewhere and he can find it again.”

A sound thudded above and shook the ground below their feet.

“What the hell?” Dean looked up at the ceiling. “Do… Do you hear that?”

Bobby, in fact, could hear something.

There was the steady creak of the floorboards above as if hundreds of people were swarming to their seats in the pews. The soft echo of parishioner’s conversation shushed with the clear and commanding words of The Lord’s Prayer. And if he didn‘t know any better, Bobby would say it sounded like Sam was delivering a late night mass to a congregation of ghosts.

“Come on,” Dean said. “Let’s get Alec out of here.”

The sound of Sam’s voice grew louder and louder as they moved up each flight of stairs. The volume became so immense that Bobby was convinced there were some amplifiers hooked up in the rafters that he wasn’t aware of. And as deafening as the bellow of Latin was, each word also began to warp and change, like something was pushing the syllables backwards and forwards through Sam’s throat.

When they reached the church floor they found it as empty as Bobby had last seen it except for the pulpit.

“Sam?” Dean called out. “Sammy!”

Bobby had never seen Sam dressed in a cassock before, the long-sleeved garment that ended at the ankle seemingly as dated as the shroud that had been draped around the body in Dean‘s arms. When Sam turned to look at them, Bobby saw the sweep of black cloth flare and was reminded of the uniform of a soldier, only the band of white at Sam’s throat marking him as an agent of peace rather than war.

“Please,” Sam’s eyes glinted gold in the soft candlelight. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Keep reading, Sam,” Ben said from beside him. “We’re almost there.”

Dean had knelt on the floor to lay Alec down behind the furthest pew, putting his flannel over the kid although there was no body heat left there to preserve. Staying close to his side, Bobby took Dean’s arm so he wouldn’t venture any further in the meager light of the flickering candles.

“His eyes,” Dean said. “Is he--”

“No,” Bobby said. “Think those are what come… natural.”

For Dean’s sake he decided not to finish the sentence like he wanted to. That pretty gold looked a whole lot like the eyes of the demon that made Sam what he was. Wondering how often that grotesque gleam seeped through whenever Sam was settled too deep in his power, Bobby redirected his attention to the echo of prayer still echoing through the church.

“What are they doin’?” Dean whispered.

“Not sure,” Bobby could feel something charged in the air, like a lightening strike or the buzz off a power line. It smelled like something was about to burn. “But it ain’t any good.”

Then he caught something moving in the corner of his eye.

It wasn’t much but a thin sliver of radiance that chased itself in a circle before it winked out. He blinked in case he was seeing things, but it quickly happened again, right in the center of the room and near the ceiling. They both backed up in a hurry when the circle of light started to whip around in a frenzy, sinking lower and lower until it sizzled into the floor like a branding iron. Everything within its circumference, wooden pews and steel candelabras, began smoldering and melting as it spun so fast it turned into a solid ring of fire.

“Well I’ll be,” Bobby muttered in awe. “Don’t let it touch you, Dean. Don‘t get near it even!”

“What the hell is that thing!”

“It’s… It’s a damn gate.”

“It can’t be…” Dean stepped towards Alec’s still body. “I never seen a gate that looks like that! Gates look like… gates!”

Bobby narrowed his gaze at Ben who was watching the dancing light with the wonder of a child. “That damn fool went and made one,” he realized. “Out of nothing.”

“But how?“ Dean threw up his arm when it suddenly began to flash and flare. “No one can just call one up like that! Even if yer souped up like Sam!”

“Not alone they can’t,” Bobby looked up at the sculpture of the crucifixion hanging behind Sam and Ben. “There’s something else in here. Something used for summoning.” His gaze fell on the large bible that lay open on the pulpit.

The light crackled and brightened, drowning out the lightening flashing outside the tall windows.

“Sam!” Dean yelled over the noise. “Sammy can you hear me!”

Sam had fallen to his knees, his head bowed and his hands clasped together in prayer.

“Ben got to him,” Dean took Bobby’s rifle. “That bastard did something to him.”

Bobby had been hoping it would take longer for Dean’s shock to wear off because he wasn’t ready to charge in just yet. “Hold on a second, son,” he tried. “Take it easy now. Let‘s just think before we--”

But Dean had already pushed past him and was moving steady up the outside aisle just outside the flames. Checking both barrels before leveling the weapon right for Ben’s head, Dean got ready to end all of it the messy and fast way. But before Bobby could shout a warning he saw Dean had frozen in his tracks with no discharge coming from his weapon.

The transgenic was holding up his hand in Dean’s direction like he was halting traffic.

“I’m surprised at you, Uncle Dean,“ Ben’s gaze refocused on the double barrel of the rifle pointed at his face. “What kind of monster would try to harm his own family?”

Gathering up his duffel, Bobby moved as close up behind Dean as he could. Sam was still declaiming prayer so fast and quick it sounded like another language entirely, each word practically turning visible as the dull glow of Sam’s eyes. Barely glancing in Bobby’s direction, Ben had already decided to ignore the aged hunter completely. But Bobby didn’t mind the dismissal of a feeble and harmless old man one bit.

In fact, he was counting on it.

Two-half breed demons might be plenty powerful, but something was helping them along and it could be an item just as incidental as a religious talisman that Sam used everyday without thinking twice. And something that a boy like Ben would recognize at once when he saw it.

Bobby stepped closer to the big bible sitting open on the pulpit.

“I have been saving something for you, Dean,” Ben came forward to tap the barrel of the rifle. “Saving it for a moment just like this.”

“You better make it quick,” Dean’s hand worked on the trigger. “Because you and your moments are running out fast.”

Ben smiled at him indulgently. “Do you remember the ashes?” he asked. “They were scattered in the cornfield like snow.”

Sam’s rapid prayer abruptly stopped mid-sentence.

“Ashes?” Dean repeated. “Sure. I see a lot of them in my line of work.”

Sam slowly stood up, his gold eyes searching the room as if their tint had rendered him blind.

“She was a lonely used up suicide,” Ben said. “But she wouldn’t stay asleep.”

Bobby saw Dean’s grip on the rifle tighten.

“Sam heard her crying alone in the dark,” Ben explained. “But no one told her that when Sam comes calling that you better run and hide. Because when he finds the lost he drags them back kicking and screaming into their own small pieces of hell. He lets them burn and writhe there because he likes how he can bring back anything when he wants. Sam Winchester doesn‘t have to be careful. He just has to be right.”

“B-Ben,” Sam rasped. “No… stop it.”

“But he played with that dead woman for too long,” Ben said. “Then she found Alec and made him carve himself up with a razor blade so he would be dead too. The only reason she didn‘t finish the job was because your brother happened to walk in on the second act.”

“Sammy?” Dean’s voice wavered.

“That’s not even the best part, Dean,” Ben assured him sadly. “The best part is that you almost figured it all out on your own. But Sam put a cap on that real quick. He put you to bed and soothed all the bad thoughts away just like that. Any of this coming back to you, Dean? I think it is.”

Looking nervously at Dean, Bobby watched the business end of the rifle begin to shake.

“And well, honestly after all these years with one another,” Ben sighed. “Who knows what kind of games your brother has been playing with your head and just never bothered to mention.”

“I said stop it,” Sam pleaded. “Stop it now.”

Dean had gone pale, the rifle lowered to the ground. He could move again, Ben’s hold on him was released, but all he did was stumble backwards until he hit the pews.

“Look out,” Ben warned with a grin. “The way things are going? Sam might want to try it again.”

“Dean…” Sam’s voice broke, his blind gold eyes frantically searching the room. “I just wanted to make everything back the way it was. All I wanted was to keep Alec safe… that’s all I wanted… I can’t let anything take him away from me again… I can‘t, Dean… I can‘t…”

Dean said nothing.

There was no explosion of outrage. No harsh words or the crack of a fist. All Bobby could see in the absence of all anger on Dean‘s face, was the simple and lost look of disappointment.

Ben gasped in ecstasy as the gate began to shimmer with a monstrous brilliance.

Bracing himself for the stench of rot on a steaming rancid wind, Bobby blinked in confusion at the strange cool air he felt brush against his face instead. The dazzle of lights played at his eyes in a kaleidoscope of shifting color, that were every shade on the spectrum yet none at all. He didn’t know exactly how this gate had been formed, but it sure as shit wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen before. The churning air grew warmer when its edges crackled an ugly violet, its insides boiling from black and then to pure white over and over again.

“I see Her,” Ben’s gaze was locked on something Bobby couldn’t see. “She’s waiting for me.”

“Wait!” Sam begged. “Wait… please, don’t do this, don’t go in there. You don’t have to, you don’t have to do it--”

“It’s okay, Sam,” Ben told him. “Everything will be okay from now on.” Sam stilled when Ben lifted his father’s chin to kiss him gently on the mouth.

Sam collapsed to the floor as soon as Ben let him go.

“I remember where Alec is now,” Ben walked towards the swirling lights with his hands out stretched. “He’s still out there running. Running away from you.”

Bobby reached the pulpit and the open bible at the same moment Ben stepped into the center of the gate. He could see it now, every page in the holy book had been defaced with the scrawl of Sam’s handwriting, the rites for summoning spirits filling every empty margin. How long had Sam unknowingly been creating this church into a focal point of power he had no idea, calling and directing phantoms at his discretion and communicating with God knew what.

“I can feel Her,” Ben’s voice churned around them with the light and wind. “She’s so beautiful… I can see Her heart beating…”

With a shout, Bobby tipped a candelabra over the bible and let the hot wax flow over the pages and ignite. The parchment roared blue, the violent stutter of its interrupted magic knocking Bobby backwards off his feet. For a moment, he could see the triangular stream running between Sam, Ben and the gate as it brightened and then fizzled out completely.

And then all at once, everything fell totally and utterly quiet.

All Bobby could hear were his own groans of pain as his body started to figure out that it had just been tossed against a wall.

“Bobby?” Dean was at his side. “A-Are you okay?”

Bobby cursed as he felt his dislocated shoulder grind in the socket. But the rest of him seemed to be miraculously unbroken. With some aid and a small word of thanks to the man on the cross above, he struggled to his feet and looked around the smoking remains of the church.

“Check on your brother,” Bobby told him. “But be careful.”

Sam stirred when Dean touched his face, blinking up at him with dazed eyes.

Clear eyes.

“Ben’s gone,” Dean told him. “He just disappeared.”

“Where’s Alec?” Sam’s voice rose in panic. “Is he--”

“I got him out of that crypt,” Dean sat Sam up against the steps. “But h-he’s not okay, Sam.”

“Where is he?”

“Back over there,” Dean helped him up. “Behind the cistern.”

Sam staggered down the pulpit steps and pushed his way through the jumbled pews.

Kicking at the charred bible laying in chunks on the ground, Bobby limped over to where the gate had been burning only moments before. Dean knelt down to touch the scorch marks left on the wood, a strange fine dusting of ash left behind that was as smooth as silk.

 

They both turned at the strange calm in Sam’s voice.

“I couldn’t hear him before, but now I can hear everything…”

“Sam?” Bobby saw that instead of going to his son’s body, Sam had gone out the open doors and was standing in the rain.

“Alec’s lost out there,” Sam said. “He can‘t find his way back.”

Sam’s soft smile faltered when he turned towards his brother. His apology welled in his eyes, his throat working at the memory of everything Ben had said. When he finally looked like he was about to speak, Dean stepped away with a shake of his head.

“Not now, Sammy,” Dean said. “You go find him. You bring him back home.”

Sam took a deep breath and nodded.

Bobby stepped forward in alarm when Sam’s eyes rolled back, but Dean caught his brother as he folded to the ground. And Sam’s eyes stayed open, the pupils going cloudy like Alec’s had. The cast of his skin rapidly turning pale as the body was left behind with only minimal function of its systems to keep it from decay. Bobby sat down next to Dean and held Sam’s other hand.

Now came the real easy part.

All they had to do was wait.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam could still feel the steady drip of the rain falling on his face even after it had faded away.

The awareness of cold damp clothes and pain flooded back with every beat of his heart, his mind fighting to remain with the physical even as he was doing all he could to leave it behind. But he could still hear something out there in the dark.

_Sammy?_

It was his brother’s voice.

_I’m right here, Sam. I’m right here._

He could still feel the crushing pressure of someone holding his hand. There was another person there too, holding his other hand just as tightly. Sam wished he could speak to explain that he’d need them to find his way home again, but he had a feeling that Dean knew that already. The fierce grip on his hand kept him focused, his brother’s voice like a ray of light from the other side of a keyhole. It was faint but it sparkled in the black. If he could keep it in sight he could follow it back and its shine would guide him…

There was no sensation of movement.

He could feel no harsh wind on his skin or the noise of passage roaring in his ears, but Sam knew he was plummeting silently away into a deep vast nothing, and for the first time he allowed himself to wonder what would happen if he fell too far.

_Can you hear me, Sammy? I‘m here._

Oh God, whatever you do Dean, please don’t let go…

There was no fire or ice, but he understood he had traveled a long way and in a direction that wasn’t downwards, upwards or to any side. He hadn’t been sure what would happen when he first decided to find Alec this way. But now when he had stretched out as far as he could, he saw that it still hadn’t been enough. His son’s soul was beyond his reach, far enough that no matter how he strained he could come only as close as to a star in the sky. With a soundless cry in the void, Sam allowed the tether to his body to begin to fray, stretching further and further and further until he could reach with all his might towards his son’s distant flickering glow.

_Sam? Sammy…_

Dean’s voice began to fade away along with the touch of his hand. Sam wondered if some lag of time had passed without his knowing, because his brother sounded different. His voice sounded less frightened and more sad…

_You have to come back now, Sam. Come back._

Not yet, Dean. Not yet…

When the very last strand of the link snapped free, Sam suddenly started to tumble towards the weak glow he had been chasing. It grew larger and brighter as he drew closer, crashing down like a comet straying too close to a sun. Lifting his phantom limbs, Sam tried to shield his face as the velocity began to rip him away layer by layer, stripping him away until all that was left was the silent scream of his fear--

Sam opened his eyes.

There was a scarlet sky above and the sluggish stir of a hot and humid breeze. Looking at the red glare of a bloated sunset on the horizon, he knew he'd been here once before in a dream when the fields had been dark with night. Standing up slowly, he brushed the dry dirt from his hands and looked in every direction. The corn had been decimated by the close of the season, every foot of it, withered down the ground and bent at the stalks. Each row was facing the garish light like countless bodies of the dead laid down one after another and another and another...

The empty miles stretched out to infinity all around, but Sam knew he wasn’t alone here.

He saw only one variance to the flat landscape and the rise of the small hill lay far away in the distance. But one mile or a thousand was meaningless in a place where nothing ended and nothing began. Sam willed the many miles to pass under his feet as quickly as he could, occasionally touching down lightly on the cracked soil until he landed at the base of the hill with its one withered tree.

Alec was sitting underneath its black branches.

“It’ll all grow back,” Alec told him. “It grows back every year.”

Sam swallowed hard at the fields and wondered how many times Alec had seen them waste away and die. Ben had said time passed strangely in this prison he had created for the stolen souls. Briefly wondering how long his own body had been abandoned, Sam pushed the thought aside when he realized he didn‘t care.

“Alec,” he heard his voice rasp from his throat as if he were made flesh and blood. “It’s me.”

“Go away.” Alec said. “You’re not real.”

Sam sat down beside him.

“You can’t fool me,“ Alec was rocking back and forth. “You can’t make me think anything. You can’t do anything because you‘re not even here--”

“It’s okay,” Sam touched his trembling shoulder. “It’s over now.”

“There’s no way out of here,” Alec was staring at the hand on his shoulder. “This is all there is.”

“I’ve come to bring you home, Alec.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah, Alec. It’s me. I promise it‘s me.”

Sam could feel Alec’s thoughts as vividly as Alec could feel his. There was the edge of some madness there, Sam realized, an unhinged look in the green eyes from his time spent in isolation. Years, decades, Sam had no idea and he didn’t know how to even ask how many nights had been created in this perpetual fall of twilight. But he could also sense Alec’s mind was still whole, and it was as scattered and frantic as the night he ran away into the corn.

“Ben sent me here,” Alec was looking out at setting sun again. “He sent me here to hide me from you.”

Sam let his mind dilate wide open so his son could see and understand anything he wanted. He closed his eyes as Alec swept through his thoughts, the images of the gate, of the flames and the church in the rain. Sam showed him everything that had happened in the last five days and it had all started with Alec waiting in the backyard for his father to come down the porch stairs.

Sam stood and pulled Alec up with him.

“You ruined everything,” Alec dully repeated what he had said as the memory surfaced. “You ruined it.”

“I know,” Sam said softly. “I know I did.”

“You wiped my memory because you thought I couldn’t handle it.”

Sam wanted to argue but his son was right.

“You don’t know what I can handle,” Alec’s voice shook. “You have no idea.”

Looking at his son, Sam felt an unexpected surge of pride for the man standing beside him. He abruptly comprehended that Alec’s life in Manticore hadn’t dismantled him like it had his brother Ben. It was humbling to finally understand that the suffering had fortified Alec, creating him and leaving him on the other side of hardship with something close to a smile.

“Are we really leaving?” Alec asked.

“Yes.”

“Then I want you to do it one more time.”

“Do… Do what?”

“I want you to make me forget this place,” Alec looked out over the endless fields. “I want to forget everything that happened after Ben sent me here.”

Sam felt grief thud in his chest although his heart was somewhere else far away. For everything his son could handle, there were also some things that he couldn’t.

“Are you sure, Alec?”

“I want you to forget this place too. Can you do that?”

Sam nodded.

“Wait,” Alec’s hands came out to grip Sam’s arms, suddenly afraid that his father would vanish without him. “W-When will I see you again?”

Sam gently smiled and gathered Alec close in his arms. Shutting his eyes, he felt Alec shut his too, the dismal world around them eclipsing into nonexistence as they left it forever.

“Count to three, Alec.”

“One. Two…”

 

 

 

 

At first Dean didn’t know why he had put his brother and nephew together in the same room.

He told himself it was because it was easier to watch over them that way, but he also thought it might help some how. Back in Seattle he remembered how when Sam and Alec had first met their energy had waxed and waned just from being nearby or apart. After that first day had gone by and Sam hadn’t woken up, Dean had stuck a chair right at the foot of the bed where both of them silently lay. He couldn’t stand it when Bobby covered their faces with the sheets, but he understood it kept the light and bugs away.

He talked to Sam sometimes when Bobby wasn‘t around. Sometimes he held his hand and told him what a fucking asshole he was. For hiding shit from him. For not trusting him. For being a selfish bastard that always did whatever he wanted. For leaving him alone here and going away.

Dean hated to cry but it felt as good as punching in a wall.

When a week had gone by he started to sleep somewhere besides the chair. And he was going to do the same thing tonight eventually. But for some reason when the clock had started to creep towards dawn he still hadn’t gotten up to find his bed.

“You in here, Dean?”

“Yeah, Bobby.”

Bobby shuffled in behind him, yawning and handing him a cup of coffee. Dean took the mug and listened to the old man settle down in the more comfortable chair in the corner by the window. Staring at the still forms under the drape of sheets, Dean suddenly decided to say what had been on his mind ever since that gate had winked out right before his eyes.

“Where do you think Ben went?” Dean asked quietly.

Bobby shrugged before he let out a deep sigh.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I sure don’t know.”

Dean gulped the coffee and let it burn the back of his throat. He wasn’t sure if the man was lying to him for his sake, but he thought maybe the hunter was being honest. They had both seen the way to hell a few times in their lives and what Ben had stepped through hadn’t looked like what they knew. And if that was true, then maybe his brother hadn’t vanished into nowhere either.

Maybe Alec was actually somewhere out there to be found.

“Would you look at that.” Bobby muttered.

Dean turned towards the window but Bobby was looking at the bed.

Something had changed.

Quickly getting to his feet, Dean yanked back the sheet and was confused when all he saw was what he'd been staring at for the past week. The still pale bodies that weren’t corpses made him want to cover them back up again as fast as he could. But Bobby had moved to his side, letting out a hoarse laugh and clapping Dean on the back hard enough to almost knock them both over. And that’s when Dean finally saw what the old man already had.

Sam was holding Alec’s hand.

Alec suddenly wheezed in a breath, and his eyes fluttered open.

“Holy shit,” Dean blinked in shock. “Alec? A-Are you--”

“…T-Three.” Alec croaked.

“What’d he say?” Bobby asked.

“I-I dunno,” Dean was trying to lift the kid’s head. “Bobby, get some water, I think he‘s--”

Sam abruptly started violently coughing, groaning in between choking and trying to draw in another lungful of air. They were awake. Both of them. They looked like hell warmed over, but they were undoubtedly and completely awake.

“Sammy? Hey, you okay?”

His brother took a moment to focus on him, but his eyes had turned back to the bright vivid color of the living again. Sam’s skin was even losing the sickly cast and red was starting to burn on his cheeks as his heart started pumping full steam.

“I-I found ‘im, Dean,” Sam breathed. “I found ‘im.”

Dean felt Alec’s body spasm and sat him up just in time for the kid to start puking over the side of the bed.

“Oh man!” Dean smiled up at Bobby’s stunned but equally as pleased face. “Is that not the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard?”

Glad to see that Sam seemed strong enough to yak on his own, Dean watched as Alec’s white skin started to change to something close to normal too. In breathless disbelief, he didn’t know what to do but take the towels Bobby was handing him and wipe the kid’s mouth.

Alec was panting and blinking in dazed confusion at the mess on the floor under his face. “Wha-What happened?”

Having absolutely no idea how to answer that question, Dean squeezed him hard enough to make him sick again.

“Let’s get him in the tub, Dean,” Bobby prompted. “He’s still as cold as ice.”

“Right,” Dean grabbed at the blankets that had been useless before. “Sit tight, Alec. Everything is gonna be fine. Sam, don‘t get up you idiot, you were just dead for an entire week--”

Sam swayed on his feet and had to take a few unsteady steps to the wall to brace himself. “A-A week?”

“Yeah,” Dean felt like laughing. “A fucking week.”

“What… where… what happened?” Sam clutched his head. “I was in the church, and Ben went through the gate and… and then…”

Dean considered his brother a moment before deciding not to play the repeat game right now. He’d been around enough injury and trauma to know that the big explanations worked a lot better after everyone had a chance to recover. And whatever the hell Sam had just done and gone was probably enough to make anyone’s memory a little hazy.

He could hear the tub filling.

It didn’t take much to shove Sam back into bed, and not much at all to get Alec to his feet. Dean clenched his jaw as he realized how much weight the kid had lost. But Alec was getting more lucid by the second and to Dean’s overwhelming relief, slightly annoyed.

“Dean? What are you doing…”

“Just a bath, Alec,” he said. “Got to warm you up a little.”

“What happened? Did something happen?”

“You’ve been away for a while.”

“A-Away?” Alec flinched when he was lowered into the steaming water. "Where'd I go?"

“Far away.”

“For h-how-how..” Alec’s teeth started chattering. “…how l-long?”

“Too long.”

“D-Did you-you feed my cat?”

Dean did start laughing then.

And he didn’t give a shit at how crazy he sounded either.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Alec POV. Alec has to sleep with the lights on. If he could actually sleep that is._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anddddddddd, NaW comes to a close with a kinda different chapter that ends with Alec. If this chapter doesn't feel like the biggest end-all-encompassing-final-sounding thing you've ever heard, it's because there's no WAY I'm ever going to put this verse away forever... More sequels? More Aftershock-Like Thingies? You bet. (I already got an idea of them all going back to Seattle for a more DA-ish story next time round. Sam and Alec still have tons of things to figure out about each other. And Dean and Sam still have some issues that won't get resolved in some conversation by a pretty fence. And there's always Killer of course... the Adventures of Which Have Not Even Yet Begun! :D
> 
> However, any biggish Bang!verse projects start after Traces is done, and whatever other ya-yas I need to get out first. I really like doing these multi-chapters but man oh man, they drain me so. So much drama! So much emotion! SO ACTIONY! (You may notice a lot of my fiction is a lot of Sam and Dean staring at each other while they eat Twinkies and share mediocre philosophy on life because well... that shit just doesn't take as much effort as looking through the intrawebs to look up how to hot wire a tugboat.)
> 
> (which is no where to be found on the intrawebs btw)
> 
> (as far as I know)
> 
> This one has been a lot of fun, and I got to thank everyone for reading and commenting all the wonderful fun things you've commented. You guys have TOTALLY made this verse easy to write just because you really are just cool like that. ♥
> 
> More soon, as always,  
> -winnie aka mink(mix)

A few weeks went by and Alec was still sleeping with all the lights on.

He knew it wasn’t something that any reasonable adult should be doing, but he wasn’t real interested in reasonable these days. Especially after he found out that there was no regulation anywhere that specifically stated that it was not allowed. Like all those other things like: “no living” in the living room or using water in your cereal. There were lots of rules that Alec just assumed were unbendable until he went ahead and accidentally broke one.

“Have a good night, Sam.” Alec stretched.

He waited a few moments.

“I SAID NIGHT, SAM.”

“Uh-wha-Alec?” Sam sputtered awake. “Whatdasay?

“Just sayin’ good night.”

Sam pulled a pillow over his head. “Goodnight, Alec.”

He’d tried really hard to sleep up in that quiet attic all by himself. He could honestly say he’d given it his best shot. But the first few nights brought him right back downstairs.

“Hey, Alec?”

“Yeah?”

“D-Do you think we could try this tonight with the lights off?”

“Uh, sure thing?” Alec wanted to at least sound accommodating. “We could do that I guess.”

He’d also been sleeping in his father’s room every night since he started with the whole light thing. And Alec wasn’t using some manly gesture of a sleeping bag in the corner either. This deal didn’t even include a handy cot that could be folded away for the day. Nope, he was right there in his dad’s bed and he didn’t care who the fuck knew about it. As long as no word or mention of it ever left the house of course.

It was a small town and he did have something of a rep to maintain.

Alec was glad when Sam drifted back to sleep before any actualization of light switching-off could occur. However, that also meant he was all alone again.

“I guess I’ll see ya in the morning,” Alec said.

“Wha?Huh?”

“Sleep tight,” Alec stared at the ceiling. “Don’t let the bed bugs--”

“Alec.”

“Sorry.”

Alec listened the worrisome sound of peaceful snoring.

He knew all of this bed stuff was stupid. He was aware that it was childish. And he had a complete and utter understanding of how weird it all might seem to anyone who hadn’t recently had their soul ripped out of their body and had it sealed away in purgatory. Grabbing his blanket, Alec headed down the hall to the other bedroom. Pushing the door open, he frowned at the sight of Dean’s four-point sprawl on the tiny queen sized bed.

Alec loudly cleared his throat.

“How ya doin’, Dean?”

Dean dragged a quilt off his face and focused groggily in the blue glow of the lava-lamp Alec clicked on. “Ah god no…”

“Move over.”

“I’ve been thinkin’ Alec…”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,“ Dean yawned. “These last few weeks remind me of way back when Sammy was a kid.”

“That’s really fascinating but could you move over a little more?”

“He thought some weird Easter Rabbit was gonna break into our house…. and paint all our eggs… or lay eggs in the paint… or I dunno… something like that.”

Alec shoved Dean further into the corner to make himself some space. His uncle was good for late night chats and all, but Dean was a lot less organized sleeper than his father which made logistics problematic.

“I think you’re suffering from that uh…” Dean tried to roll over and hit the wall. “…whatcha call it, post-traumatic-annoying syndrome thing those people .. talk about… on …those talk shows….”

“Gimme a pillow,“ Alec slid in as close to his uncle as he could and started wrapping himself in. “And not a lame flat one either.”

“Do you want a bedtime story too?” Dean asked. “A cautionary tale maybe about a little boy that keeps waking up a crazy guy with a knife under his mattress…”

“No thanks.”

“How about a story about the time I was down in Palm Springs and I met those chicks from Thailand going to school for massage therapy--”

“The twins?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Okay,” Alec sighed. “Why not.”

He waited patiently for a few minutes until he realized that Dean had fallen back asleep.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Alec concentrated on breathing slowly in and out. It wasn’t as if he could remember any of the purgatory part. Or even being sealed up in a crypt in the dark for days not being able to see or move or… or breathe. Alec felt his heart starting to beat too fast, the closed window across the room making him want to get up and push it wide open even though it was pouring rain outside.

“Dean?” His uncle was a lot harder to wake than his dad so he included a kick. “Hey, Dean!”

Dean groaned under the pile of blankets.

“Tell me that story about that time when you got arrested in New Jersey.”

“I went to New Jersey. Was arrested.” Dean said. “Everybody lived.. happyforevertheend…”

Sam had told Alec he’d been missing for five days and gone for ten but he didn’t remember a single thing about it. Weirder still, he had no idea why his brother Ben, who liked to make sure all his methods of harm were clearly understood, spared Alec that one agony out of all the others. But despite not having any memory of what his limbo had been like, Alec was still feeling some things that he couldn’t figure out. He never liked being alone much, but now the thought of even being by himself in the goddamn shower was making his throat tighten and his skin break out in a cold sweat--

“Or-Or the time you and Sam almost got busted in Saint Louis,” Alec suggested. “That was a good one.”

Alec and the cat were summarily both startled when it jumped up onto the bed and they unexpectedly met eye to eye. This animal was well aware of what the real estate situation was like on this mattress and sharing it with anyone else was undesirable to say in the least.

“I know,” Alec said. “Tell me the one about how you and your dad went down to Mexico that first time?”

“I got a better idea,” Dean was muffled under three layers of quilt. “Why don’t you tell it?”

“Sure!” Alec liked talking more than listening anyway. “It was your birthday and you really wanted to go to Tijuana to get wasted but your dad wanted to go find some guy that stiffed him on a fake monkey’s paw so--”

“Don’t forget the part where we get stopped by the border police with a dead donkey in the backseat.”

“That part is way at the end, shut up and let me tell it right…”

As Alec talked, the cat wriggled under his arm and began the slow and tedious process of cleaning itself. Closing his eyes, he carefully recited route numbers, complicated sounding Spanish towns and the even more fantastical names of prostitutes.

Alec knew that Dean was right though.

These little sleepovers couldn’t go on forever. And if he had to sleep alone again, he actually had been thinking of one other thing that would make him feel a lot better about doing it. The plan made about as much sense as spooning with a cat and Dean in the middle of a muggy June, but the thought brought a smile to his face that didn’t fade away even after he finally started to feel drowsy…

As soon as dawn hit he was going to go have a talk with the farmer down the road. The guy had a small fleet of diesel tractors that could do a lot of damage to the peaceful waving stalks of corn that ran for ten square miles behind the house.

He got more sleepy the more he thought about it.

Alec had no idea why the image of all that beatific scenery leveled to the ground gave him so much satisfaction, but he didn’t really care at the moment. Because first thing in the morning he was going for a tractor ride.

He might even wear a cowboy hat.

 

continued in the Ripple Effects---->

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109713/chapters/40237892


End file.
